


First Impressions

by thecastledking



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 15:48:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecastledking/pseuds/thecastledking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean thought he had enough on his plate just keeping the peace in the Winchester household, but then the rumor mill started buzzing about the new neighbors.</p>
<p>Or: A modern day Pride and Prejudice AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Additional pairings include brief Dean/Michael and mentions of past Anna/Michael

“‘It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man, in possession of large fortune, must be in want of a wife’?”

“Dean!” Mary yelped, her hand flying to her chest. “What have I told you about reading over my shoulder? You scared the crap out of me.”

Dean pressed a kiss to Mary’s temple. “Who would read a book that starts off like that?”

“Look at you, judging a book by its cover.”

“By its first sentence,” Dean argued.

Mary smiled. “It’s a period piece,” she explained, “and a satire. So I can see how the subtleties would go over your head.” She kissed him fondly on the cheek to show she was kidding. Looking past him with a raised eyebrow she asked, “Charlie, darling, is there a reason you’re hovering in the doorway?”

Charlie pointed at Dean. “I lost my partner in grad school application crime. But, I was ordered by Mrs. Moseley to pass the news along under pain of death.” She cleared her throat dramatically. “Apparently, Netherfield Park – that big mansion down the street? – finally sold.”

“There are people with enough money to buy that place?” Dean asked.

Charlie nodded. “Two sisters. And one percenters if they’re able to purchase an _estate_.”

“It’s not an estate or a park. The builders just slapped a pretentious name on it so the realtors could jack up the price.”

Mary sighed and pinched at the bridge of her nose. “We should get your father to go over there and welcome them to the neighborhood. Maybe see if they need help moving in.” She nudged Dean aside so she could stand up. “I’d go over myself, but I need to read some of this manuscript before the day’s over.”

John, it turned out, could not be moved.

“It’s my day off,” he protested. “I’m not going over there and offering my assistance when the young ladies have probably hired an army of strapping young men to do the job for them.”

“You could at least extend a little hospitality towards them,” Mary argued. “There aren’t many young people in the neighborhood as is, let alone ones our children’s ages.”

“They can go over and say ‘hi’ for themselves,” John pointed out as he cracked open a beer. Dean knew John’s entire plan for the day was to finally catch up on _The Walking Dead_ and he couldn’t blame him. Watching great zombie killing justice unfold was more fun than welcoming rich snobs into the neighborhood.

Adam came home a couple hours later, looking excited. “We have new neighbors?”

“What did you hear about them?” Mary asked. “Your father decided to be uncivilized and won’t go say hello.”

“They’re rich. New money, if the grapevine is anything to go by,” Adam said enthusiastically, the big gossip. “Jessica and Meg Moore? Jessica’s the only one here right now, but her sister and some other people are flying in next week or something.”

“So they’ll be here in time for the fourth of July?” Mary asked.

“You’re really excited about the new neighbors and it’s kind of freaking me out,” Dean said suspiciously.

“I’m just happy that there are more young people in the neighborhood for you and your brothers to hang out with,” Mary protested.

It was a long week between the news of Jessica’s arrival and her departure to the airport to pick up however many guests, or family members, or whoever were flying in. Missouri’s ongoing reports were scanty at best and further distorted when Adam was the one relaying the information. By the end of the week, Jessica’s retinue had grown from ‘sister and couple others’ to ‘sister, twelve other ladies, and seven men’ or ‘multiple sisters, six men, and four girls’ depending on who was asked.

Mary – who spent the week bogged down  with work – had grown increasingly frustrated with John’s ongoing refusal to meet Jessica, going so far as to forbid everyone else from meeting her themselves in an attempt to prove some point none of them were quite sure on.

The night before the big Fourth of July celebration, Mary said that maybe it’d be best for them not to go, since they’d be the only people there not already acquainted with the Moore family.

“That’d be a shame,” John said as he thumbed idly through the newspaper, “seeing as how you were so set on Jessica becoming friends with our boys. She said she’d be very sorry not to see us at the park when I spoke to her the other day.”

Mary looked up from the manuscript she was editing and fixed John with a look that clearly said he was going to be sleeping on the couch tonight if he was bullshitting her. Sam, his stoic face starting to crack, reached over and slapped Dean on the back a couple times when he choked on his beer.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d gone to see her?” Mary asked through gritted teeth.

“Because I didn’t. She came to see me at the garage. She wanted her car to have a tune up before she drove it to the airport. And no, she didn’t tell me the exact number of people she was bringing. We would’ve been in for a nice surprise when she showed up with a whole garrison, but – seeing as how we’re not going anymore – we’ll never find out.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

John shrugged. “Maybe I just forgot to tell you, or couldn’t find the right moment. Or maybe I just wanted to see how far the madness would go.”

Adam broke the silence by asking the inevitable question. “So we’re _not_ going?”

“Of course we’re going,” Mary said dismissively. “Like we’d miss the social occasion of the summer just because your father felt like winding me up.”

\--

“We’d be going even if Dad hadn’t met her,” Sam said later that night as he and Dean got ready for bed. Dean hummed in agreement around his toothbrush and moved aside so Sam could wash his face in the sink.

“Gotta rest up, get your beauty sleep,” Dean said, after he spat and rinsed his mouth out. “You need to look nice and pretty for the party tomorrow. Impress the new neighbors enough and you might just bag yourself a special someone.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You’re being disgusting.”

“I’m just saying Mom’s right. Regardless of which rumor – if any – are true, the number of ladies in the area has increased exponentially. Whether they want to have anything to do with us is a completely different matter.”

“Goodnight, Dean,” Sam said, but there was amusement in his eyes as he flicked off the light switch, plunging Dean into darkness.

“I’m gonna see you again in a couple seconds,” Dean said. He leaned out of the bathroom door to shout, “We share a room, you know!” at Sam’s retreating back.

“Some of us are trying to sleep,” Adam called from his room.

“Stop yelling!” John’s voice boomed from the master bedroom. “You’ll give your mother a headache.”

Dean beat a hasty retreat upstairs to the attic. He and Sam had carved out a space for themselves up there after Adam the Unplanned had been born into the Winchester’s two bedroom household and promptly taken over. The attic was their sanctuary, and being able to scare Adam post-horror movie binge by stomping around on the creaky floorboards over his room was an added bonus.

Sam had already turned off the overhead light and was pretending to sleep by the time Dean reached the top of the stairs. There was plenty of light coming in through the open window from the streetlamp outside for him to navigate the mess of dirty clothes and discarded books to get to his bed. He stopped midway through pulling back the covers, frowning at the humming electric fan, then at the open window, then at Sam for not closing the window before turning the fan on. He went over to the window and closed it so no more cool air could leave the room. Hopefully, it would also muffle the noise of the mini firework show Gabriel, the neighborhood brat, liked to set off every year at 5 A.M.

\--

The whole neighborhood was abuzz with activity all the next day. Sam and Dean split their time between helping Mary prepare the dishes for the picnic, and helping some of the neighborhood guys get the park ready for the evening. Adam helped out in the kitchen as well – The Staple Gun Incident of 2008’s celebrations barring him from park duties – until he got bored, grabbed Charlie, and dragged her off to go shopping.

Dean tried to stop him, but Adam promised the trip was for Charlie’s benefit. The party was traditionally a semi-formal occasion and Charlie didn’t really have anything suitable to wear, unless nerdy t-shirts suddenly counted as appropriate attire. Dean later regretted relenting when they came back with too many shopping bags, clearly indicating Adam’s wardrobe had been the main focus of their expedition and not Charlie’s, who looked relieved to not be in the mall anymore.

When he complained about Adam’s wasteful spending, Sam reminded him that the old hand-me-down method had never worked for their family. Sam had grown too fast and, by the time Adam was big enough to wear anything of Dean’s, they’d been worn to rags.

“So of course Adam’s going to buy himself something nice for this evening,” Sam concluded, sneaking Dean pie crust bits and pieces of apple that hadn’t been put in the pie pan yet whenever Mary’s back was turned. The food was both a peace offering designed to get Dean’s sibling-related frustration under control, and to keep Dean’s mouth occupied so he wouldn’t argue back until Sam was finished.

Though onto Sam’s dirty tricks, Dean was more than happy to accept the bits of food and roll his eyes when Sam stopped talking. Mary caught him filching another apple from the bowl and banished them both back to the park, yelling after them to come back in time to take a shower.

With five people in a house with only two showers, getting ready to Mary’s satisfaction would take forever.

\--

As always, the Independence Day celebration was huge. The big tent Sam and Dean had helped set up earlier was now rigged with lights and sound equipment. There were a couple people already milling around on the dance floor waiting for the band to start playing. Some old gym bleachers had been placed outside the tent for people who wanted to take a break or just watch. The rest of the park was under the open, darkening sky to afford everyone a view of the fireworks that were going to close the evening out. Children ran amok among the patchwork of picnic blankets spread out over the lawn from the early arrivals, and lining up with surprising obedience to get popcorn and cotton candy from the vendors in the parking lot with the ice cream truck receiving the most attention.

Charlie and her family were already there, which Dean assumed would mean an earlier escape his family than he’d anticipated, but his freedom didn’t last. The Bradbury’s decided to eat with them and they were soon joined by Mrs. Moseley. Adam ran off before the picnic baskets were even opened to join in on the dance floor once the band started and John only ate some before wandering off to hang out with the guys. Dean was certain that neither of them would be seen again until after the fireworks, when John had had enough socializing to last him a month and dragged everyone back home.

Dean contemplated committing sacrilege and inhaling some apple pie instead of savoring it like a sane man so he and Charlie could finally flee, but then Mrs. Moseley was staring across the grass with wide eyes and Dean hesitated.

“That’s them,” she said, nodding towards the approaching figures. “That’s Jessica Moore and her sister, Meg.”

“And the third?” Mary asked.

They were actually whispering. Dean wanted to die.

“A Mr. Novak,” Missouri expounded for everyone’s benefit. “I don’t know his first name, but he’s one of Jessica’s oldest friends and is the richer of the two.”

“Great, an even bigger snob to deal with,” Dean muttered to Sam, who elbowed him in the ribs.

“Be nice, Dean. We haven’t even met them yet.”

“Someday, Missouri, you’re gonna tell me how you know so much about the contents of other people’s bank accounts,” Dean said, laughing off the next elbowing Sam gave him as everyone awkwardly clambered to their feet, trying to surreptitiously wipe away any errant grass clippings that may have gotten on them. Missouri, their self-appointed acting ambassador, took a step forward to make the introductions.

Dean immediately zoned in on Novak. While Jessica and Meg had heeded the semi-formalness of the occasion – wearing a vintage looking dress and a button down shirt with dark jeans, respectively – Novak either hadn’t gotten the memo or had no idea what the ‘semi’ prefix meant. He was in a full suit, with a tie and everything. And… was that a trench coat? Dean did a quick double take. Christ, how had he only just noticed the coat? How was this guy not dying from the heat?

The guy was also staring at Dean with an intensity that could strip paint off the walls. Dean, not one to back down from a challenge, returned the stare until Novak looked away and went back to what Dean figured was his default setting – looking like he wanted to smite the next person who tried to make polite conversation with him.

Dean was brought crashing back into the conversation when Jessica got a word in edgewise. He didn’t pay much attention to what she said. He was too busy noticing how she and Sam couldn’t look away from each other to listen. Everyone seemed to have noticed as well. Charlie was trying not to giggle as she glanced between them and Mary abruptly excused herself and the other adults from the conversation, saying something about letting the younger people talk.

“Do you want to dance?” Jessica asked in the window of silence following the departure.

Sam nodded dumbly in surprise at the question and Jessica – in an act that was somehow both incredibly smooth and extremely awkward – offered Sam her arm like a goddamned gentleman. Even in the fading light, Dean could see Sam’s blush as he laughed, took Jessica’s offered arm and let her lead him towards the dance floor.

“Why don’t we all go?” Meg said, fidgeting to get out of this conversation ASAP and tugging on Novak’s arm. It was like watching an unstoppable force meet an immovable object.

Dean, realizing that he hadn’t heard Novak say one word this entire time, and supposing it wouldn’t be neighborly of him if he didn’t at least _try_ to be sociable asked, “Wanna dance, Novak?”

“Not if I can help it,” Novak said. His voice was a rough grumble and Dean wasn’t sure if it just sounded like that because he hadn’t spoken in a while or if it was natural.

Dean nodded like that wasn’t an asshole answer. “Well, I promised Charlie I’d have a dance with her, so if you two will excuse me.” He bobbed a sarcastic, gentlemanly bow at them. “In case I don’t see you again tonight, it was a pleasure meeting you both.”

Charlie barely had a chance to say something along the same lines before Dean was pulling her away, anxious to leave before he let his temper get away from him. At least _he’d_ made an effort to be nice.

The moment they were out of earshot, Charlie started giggling. “Holy shit,” she sputtered, risking a quick glance over her shoulder as they went.

“Bet you could shove a lump of coal up his ass and he’d crap out a diamond,” Dean said.

He looked back at their abandoned picnic, bemoaning the fact he hadn’t gotten around to eating that slice of pie before the awkwardness had happened. Novak and Meg were deep in conversation, moving to another part of the park as Mary and the others returned. Mary threw Dean a questioning look, a dimple forming between her eyebrows as she gestured at Novak’s retreating back. Dean rolled his eyes and shrugged.

Charlie stopped short of the tent and grabbed at Dean’s arm. He raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her, and she pointed. “Look at how friggin’ cute they are.”

He followed the line of her arm to see Sam and Jessica dancing near the middle of the floor. Charlie was right as always. They were adorable as hell. They still couldn’t take their eyes off each other and Dean watched with amusement as Jessica collided into Andy because of it. She apologized profusely, her eyes already returning to Sam like an iron filing drawn to a magnet by the time Andy had assured her there’d been no harm done.

One the band took a break, Dean and Charlie stumbled off the floor and made for the bleachers. Some of their fellow dancers had already gathered there for a breather, so they climbed to the very top to get fresher air and have a better view of the crowd. Dean looked around for his wayward brothers, but couldn’t spot either of them despite the height advantage.

“I think she danced with Sam the whole time,” Charlie said, surveying the crowd.

Dean grinned. “I think so, too. Just don’t tell Mom that. She’ll freak out and start planning their wedding. She’s a traditionalist.”

Charlie shushed and swatted at him, her wide eyes darting significantly between Dean and someone coming their way. It was Novak; grumping along and throwing disdainful, surly glances at any poor bystander that dared looked his way. Jessica was in hot pursuit. She caught up, grabbed his arm, and spun him around.

“Castiel,” Jessica said, and her voice a cross between stern and fond. “You have to meet some of these people and dance. Everyone I’ve met has been incredibly nice and welcoming.”

“I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to,” Novak – _Castiel_ – said. “You’ve attached yourself to the only person here outside our own party who’s even remotely agreeable.”

Jessica laughed and glanced over her shoulder to where she must’ve left Sam. Dean looked too and finally caught sight of Sam, who waved at Jessica over the crush of people before going back to whatever conversation he was having.

“Sam is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met,” Jessica said, turning back to Castiel. “There’s always his brother, Dean. You were looking at him pretty intently, and Sam speaks very highly of him. Surely he could tempt you to…” she paused to think of something Castiel might enjoy doing, “ _talk_ , at the very least.”

“Dean Winchester is _tolerable_ ,” Castiel said. “Barely tolerable, really. And not handsome enough to tempt me. Go back to Sam and enjoy his company. You’re wasting your time with me.”

Jessica frowned at him, torn between taking his advice and trying to get him to socialize. Finally, she shrugged, said something about wishing Castiel would try to enjoy the party, and moved off to find Sam as the band retook the stage for their next set.

“‘Tolerable’?” Dean croaked once Castiel had moved away to skulk somewhere else and the ringing in his ears had subsided. “Is he serious? I’m awesome.”

“Look at it this way, Dean. If he liked you, you’d have to talk to him.”

“‘Dean Winchester is _tolerable_ ’,” Dean muttered in a bad imitation of Castiel’s voice. He chuckled to himself. “‘Barely tolerable, really. And not handsome enough to tempt me’. Like he’s god’s gift to mankind.”

The evening drew to a close much faster than Dean had anticipated. Soon, the band had stopped playing and everyone had gathered together on the grass to watch the fireworks. Mary invited Jessica and her group to join them. For completely innocent reasons, Dean was sure. It was definitely not because Sam and Jessica had been joined at the hip all evening. Dean wondered if they knew they were being watched like hawks by everyone else. Mary kept sneaking too casual glances their way. Meg and Castiel sat off to the side, glaring daggers, but Dean had come to the opinion that that was how they always looked.

Sam and Jessica, however, seemed oblivious to the attention. They put their heads close together to hear each other over the pyrotechnics and talked about the house, how Jess and Meg are settling in, how she felt that the library she’d inherited was wasted on her as she didn’t have much time to read for pleasure these days (Sam got a standing invitation to come over and borrow any book he wanted, whenever he wanted), about the party, anything that came to mind.

Not that Dean was eavesdropping or anything.

Mary tried to chime in towards the end, but Dean – long trained to act as a buffer – quickly deflected her interference by asking where Adam and John wound up. He sure as hell wasn’t going to lug all their picnicking equipment back home by himself. Sam gave him a grateful look as Mary left in search of the missing family members.

While packing up their equipment as Sam and Jessica said their goodbyes, the hairs on the back of Dean’s neck stood up and he became aware that he was, once again, being stared at while in Castiel’s presence.

“Y’know, Cas,” he said, finally letting his irritation get the better of him, “staring at people isn’t the best way to make friends and influence people.”

Even in the general darkness, he caught how Meg’s eyes flashed at the shortening Castiel’s name, but surely someone had called Castiel ‘Cas’ at some point in his life. ‘Castiel’ was a mouthful. The man in question looked surprised as well and Dean almost backpedaled and apologized for some unknown faux pas, then he realized how ridiculous it would be to apologize for a nickname, so he stuck to his guns and stared back.

Castiel somehow managed to intensify the weird eye sexing thing they were doing and said in a voice as cold and brittle as ice, “What would you suggest, then?”

“Talking,” Dean said, crisply. “Or dancing. Even if your partner is ‘barely tolerable’.”

He only just managed to hide the triumphant smirk that threatened to break out over his face as Castiel’s widened at the realization Dean had overheard his conversation with Jessica. The moment was so perfect Dean almost didn’t know what to do with himself. He gave Castiel the slightest of nods in farewell, grabbed as much of the picnic stuff as he could feasibly carry, and walked off before Novak could get the last word.

\--

“Sam, if you don’t let it out, you’re gonna explode,” Dean said after they’d escaped to their attic bedroom. Nighttime, specifically the hour or two before they went to sleep, was the only real time their daily schedules aligned and they could talk alone. It had by default become the time when most of their conversations happened.

Sam smiled so wide, Dean was sure his face would split in half. He was almost vibrating with energy as he blurted out, “Jess is amazing. She’s so smart and funny.”

“She’s got a nice checking account.” This earned him a pillow to the face.

“That’s the last thing on my mind!” Sam said, his voice squeaking slightly with indignation. But he was still smiling and his happiness was infectious. “Jerk.”

Dean would’ve done his usual comeback, but he was laughing too hard to speak.

Sam’s face suddenly crumpled with uncertainty. “Do you think she…?”

“She danced with you for most of the night and stared at you for the rest,” Dean said. “And, let’s face it, you’ve fallen for worse. The only thing I have against her is her choice of company. But I guess she can’t help her choice of sister.”

Sam pulled one of his more epic faces, but it fell short as tiredness started to set in and he yawned. “Meg isn’t so bad once you get to know her. I still can’t believe what he said about you, though.”

Dean huffed a laugh. “Who, Novak? Don’t worry about it. It’s not like we’re ever going to see him again.”

Later, as sleep overtook him, Dean wondered if what he’d said would prove to be Famous Last Words.

\--

Of course those were Famous Last Words. Novak wasn’t on some weekend visit. He was staying with their new neighbors for the foreseeable future and one of those neighbors had a crush on Dean’s favorite little brother. So they kept running into Novak and the Moores. At the grocery store, at the coffee shop, at the gym, _everywhere_.

They were inescapable.

With so many Jessica Encounters, it rapidly became obvious that some long dormant switch had been flipped in Mary’s head. Where once a rational woman stood, there was now a somewhat silly, tedious _thing_ wearing their mother’s face. Dean supposed it had to do with Jessica’s constant blush and stammer in Sam’s equally blushing and stammering presence. Plus, everyone else’s children were starting families of their own while her children were still living at home and hadn’t gone on a proper date with anyone in a very, _very_ long time.

\--

It was a relief to abandon ship and go to Henricksen’s – the local sports bar – as was their weekly tradition to celebrate the weekend finally coming with a couple beers. The alcohol, lack of meddlesome adults, and front row seats to the strange flirtation ritual between Sam and Jessica was more than enough to make up for the fact that Meg and Castiel were there, sitting off to the side like toads.

Charlie returned from her journey to the bar with a couple beers. She handed one off to Dean and propped her feet up on an abandoned chair. They clinked their bottles together in a mock toast and had a sip.

She indicated Sam with her bottle. “I’m a little worried Sam’s playing it too close to the chest.”

“What?”

“I’m just saying,” she said, raising her hands in surrender. “He could stand to be a little bolder in showing Jessica how much he likes her.”

“She knows.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Dean said. “How could she not be?”

“She isn’t as well versed at Sam-speak as us,” Charlie said. “We know the many facets of the sasquatch. Jessica doesn’t. I’m just worried that, if Sam doesn’t make a bigger move and soon, she’ll slip through his fingers.”

Dean tried to form a response, but Adam came bounding over with every intention of stealing Dean’s beer.

“Someone just got complimented by the biggest asshole in the county,” he said in an attempt to distract Dean from his true purposes.

Dean sighed in exasperation, holding the beer out of reach. “What are you talking about, Adam?”

“I overheard Statler and Waldorf over there. Meg was going on and on about how horribly bourgeois this place is and asking Novak if his thoughts were ‘likewise inclined’ as to ‘how insupportable it must be to live in such a town’ or something like that. And Novak said that his thoughts were ‘much more agreeable’ and that he was thinking about a ‘pair of fine eyes’ and the ‘pleasure it can bestow’.”

“And?”

“And so then he stared at you and Meg looked super pissed.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. They always look like that.”

“But the eyes he was talking about were _yours_ ,” Adam insisted.

Dean glared at him for being ridiculous and saw a horrible truth in his eyes. A quick glance confirmed that Castiel _was_ staring at him and Meg looked like she’d swallowed more lemons than usual. Dean relented and let Adam have a small sip of his beer, but mostly because he knew Adam wouldn’t stop until he got some or he’d spilt it everywhere.

He spent the rest of the evening feeling highly uncomfortable by Castiel’s very unwanted attentions.

\--

Meg came over a week later to invite Sam to dinner. Mary’s excitement quickly dissipated when Meg made it clear that Jessica wouldn’t be there.

“Just a meal between us siblings,” Meg explained from the doorway, having declined all offers to come inside.

“See?” Sam said; changing out of the suit he had to wear for his dead end job at the city courthouse. “She’s not all bad. I just wish Jessica could be there, too.”

It started pouring rain while Sam was at Jessica’s, and Sam neither came home nor called. Dean tried not to worry about it. Sam was a grown up after all, but there was a voice in the back of his head reminding him that it wasn’t like Sam to be incommunicado.

“It’s a monsoon out there,” Mary said after Dean voiced his concerns. “I’m sure Sam’s just waiting for the weather to clear. Chances are Jessica’s returned home and they’ve gotten lost in conversation.”

\--

Dean was awoken the next morning by a call from Sam.

“Did you forget how to text?” he asked by way of greeting, still a little pissed at Sam for not getting in touch with anyone last night and the fact that the call had dashed all his hopes of sleeping in.

“I’m sorry,” Sam muttered back. His voice was thick, and there was a strange echo over the line that made Dean wonder if Sam was calling from a bathroom.

“You okay?” Dean asked, far more awake and feeling shitty for his grouchy behavior.

“Yeah.” Which was such utter bullshit; Dean briefly imagined reaching through the phone to throttle him. “I’m just a little sick.”

“How sick is ‘a little sick’?”

“Small fever and a headache.” There was a horrible pause during which Dean could swear he heard gagging. “Maybe some really super minor no big deal vomiting?”

“Sammy,” Dean groaned. He scraped a hand over his face while plotting out the steps between getting out of bed and showing up at Jessica’s front door because the end of the world couldn’t keep him from going to Sam’s bedside.

“It’s fine, really,” Sam said, drawing Dean back to the conversation at hand. “Jess is taking care of me. It’s just some minor food poisoning.”

Sam should’ve known by now that saying things like ‘vomiting’ and ‘minor food poisoning’ were never ways to calm Dean Winchester down. He ended the call and did the fastest morning routine he’d ever done in recent memory before rushing out the door with a quick, “Sammy’s sick, gonna make sure he’s okay,” to Mary.

He’d driven past Netherfield numerous times while it was still empty, but he’d somehow forgotten just how big it was. He knocked and was taken aback when a butler _didn’t_ answer and announce him to the family. Instead, Castiel answered and – without asking why Dean was there – ushered him inside.

Meg poked her head around the corner. “Did you _walk_ here?”

“It seemed a bit silly to drive,” Dean replied coolly. “Where’s my brother?”

“He’s upstairs,” Castiel said, cutting off whatever retort Meg was about to make. “I’ll take you to him.”

“No thanks, I’m sure I can find him myself. I’ll let you two get back to your breakfast,” Dean said. “Thank you,” he added belatedly, hand already on the banister of the narrow staircase leading to the second floor. Castiel nodded and went back into the dining room.

If what little of the house he’d seen so far hadn’t been daunting enough with its opulence, the second floor would’ve done the trick. A lounge area complete with luxuriant leather couches and an enormous flat screen TV greeted him at the top of the stairs. There were a couple doors nearby, but one had a dead bolt on it and the other looked like a linen closet. The walls were hung with framed works of original art and family photographs. Past the lounge, the second floor turned into a mezzanine that wrapped back around with a railing to one side overlooking the first floor with its equally expensive furnishings, and a second staircase curving slowly back downstairs.

There were so many rooms off the hall Dean was worried he was going to have to take Castiel up on his escort offer. While standing hesitantly on the landing, he heard Meg snort derisively from the dining room, “Did you see his jeans? At least six inches of mud. He looked positively medieval.”

He glanced down at the trail of mud he’d unknowingly left in his wake across the hardwood floors. But really, he figured, it wasn’t his problem the park – currently a muddy swamp thanks to the rain – was a convenient shortcut between his house and the Moores’ _estate_. Besides, they were sure to have some kind of cleaning service on their payroll, and making sure that Sammy was okay was his top priority. But he was still left with the problem of not knowing where Sam actually was. A pitiful, sickly cough echoed down the hall, and Dean followed the noise.

The guest room Sam was in was bigger than the master bedroom back home. Sam was miserably curled up in the giant bed, but he looked up when Dean appeared in the doorway and managed a weak smile.

“Knew that sushi I had for lunch tasted funny.” He waited for Dean to laugh. When he didn’t, Sam gestured to the wastebasket by the bed. “I’m fine, really. I’ve mostly stopped puking.”

“Sure,” Dean replied, toeing off his shoes so he wouldn’t track mud across the plush white carpet of the guest room. He put them in the en suite bathroom, which was easily twice as big as theirs, and ran a washcloth under a cool tap for Sam. “Your gal Jess has lost a couple points in my book,” he called over the sound of running water. “She should be holding back your hair.”

Sam made a strange sound that was somehow both a laugh and a moan. Dean draped the washcloth over Sam’s forehead and rubbed a soothing hand up and down his arm as he tucked a strand of Sam’s miraculously vomit-free hair back behind his ear.

“She should’ve kicked me to the curb when I blew chunks all over the antique furniture,” Sam muttered darkly, “but she didn’t. I’m sure Mom’s happy about this.”

“I doubt she’s happy about the you being sick part, but she’s definitely excited about you spending a night in the house of Jessica Moore: Future Daughter-In-Law. Regardless of whether or not you spent most of that night worshiping the porcelain throne.”

Sam made that laugh/moan sound again and Dean shushed him gently. They were interrupted from any further conversation by the arrival of Jessica carrying some grocery bags.

“Oh! Hi, Dean. I stepped out to get Sam some Gatorade and stuff to hopefully settle his stomach,” she said. “Also, I won’t hear of you taking Sam back home until he’s better.”

Dean couldn’t help the smile that broke over his face. Jessica had that effect on people. “Thanks for looking after him. He’ll get more rest here than at home.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Jessica said. “Not that I’m happy he’s sick,” she added hastily. “I’m happy that he’s sick here, where – like you said – he can be more relaxed. You know what? You could stay too.”

“Oh no,” Dean said quickly. “I can’t inconvenience you like that, but thanks.”

“I insist. Sam was miserable when it was just us. He already looks a lot better now that he’s got family here.”

Sam grabbed at Dean’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “It’d get you away from the madness,” he said with another weak smile.

That was all the encouragement Dean needed. He made a quick run back home to tell explain what had happened, pack some clothes and other essentials for both him and Sam. He was out the door before anyone could ask anymore questions.

\--

Being a guest in someone’s house was utterly bizarre. Jessica made sure neither he nor Sam ever felt unwelcome, but that didn’t stop Netherfield Park from being oppressively expensive. Dean had felt poor just looking at it, like the house would reject him if he so much as knocked on the door. He stuck to as few rooms as possible, and felt like an unwanted pest whenever he emerged from his or Sam’s respective rooms. The separate rooms were weird enough. They’d always shared. He joked quietly to Sam on their first night at Netherfield that he thought he might be better suited sleeping in the garage. He soon found out the garage had an apartment above it that connected to the house via breezeway and the dead bolted door by the upstairs lounge and there was another suite in the house’s basement.

Dean’s inferiority complex aside, the respite from their dysfunctional family was greatly appreciated. It was even worth putting up with Castiel Novak’s ongoing presence.

\--

Everyone except Sam, who had decided to take a nap, was outside to enjoy the afternoon sun and the pool.

Dean had not expected the pool. A massive oversight on his part since the house had two apartments. Having not packed a swimsuit and not wanting to go back home to grab one, he sat on the pool edge with his jeans rolled up to his knees, feet dangling in the water. Jessica was treading water and trying to convince Meg – who was basking in the sun on one of the poolside lounge chairs – to join her.

Castiel had once again not gotten the memo about relaxation and was on the porch typing away on his computer. Dean had learned since coming to Netherfield that Castiel didn’t often need to go into whatever office he had during the summer months. What his job was, Dean still didn’t know. But it was the weekend, they were all outside in the summer heat, and Castiel was still in full business attire. He’d shed the suit jacket once the heat got to be too much even in the shade, though, and loosened his tie slightly. But work away he did, his perpetual frown in place.

Meg picked up on the object of Dean’s attention, and said in her usual bored drawl, “What are you even working on, Castiel? Horrible business emails?”

Castiel’s frown deepened, but he didn’t look up from his screen. “You should count yourself lucky that they fall to me and not you.”

“Perhaps you’re actually writing to your sister,” Meg mused. “If you are, tell her how much I miss her. Anna is a very accomplished young lady,” she added as an aside to Dean though loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I’m not writing to Anna at the moment, but I’ll be sure to pass along your regards the next time I speak to her,” Castiel replied.

That seemed to put an end to the conversation for the time being. Dean grabbed the battered copy of Tolkien he’d brought along and picked up where he’d left off. He got that heavy sense of foreboding that signaled Castiel initiating another staring contest with the back of his head and his day darkened. He didn’t want to give Castiel the satisfaction by shifting uncomfortably, so he redoubled his efforts to focus on the words in front of him instead. Meg joined in on the staring game, her eyes flicking back and forth between him and Castiel like a spectator at a tennis match.

She then, in a surprising gesture, rescued him from the growing awkwardness. “Mr. Winchester,” she announced, getting abruptly to her feet, “how about you and I take a walk around the garden? Stretch our legs a bit after sitting for so long?”

Dean startled a little, but gamely closed his book and got to his feet. He threw a challenging smirk at Castiel as he offered Meg his arm. Castiel held the look for a few seconds, his face unreadable, then turned back to his laptop.

“Come and join us, Castiel,” Meg called over her shoulder as they wound their way across the impeccably cut, impossibly green grass. Dean sort of admired the way the name tripped off Meg’s tongue, giving it a musical quality.

“You can only have two motives, Meg,” Castiel responded, sounding annoyed.

“What can he mean?”  Meg asked Dean conspiratorially. She raised her voice. “We demand to know your meaning, Castiel.”

Castiel sighed heavily, finally removing his hands from them the laptop keyboard to take part in the conversation. “Either you’re having a private conversation or you’re showing off your figures. If it’s the first, I’ll get in the way. If it’s the second, I can see you both much better from here.”

_Wait,_ _what?_ Dean’s steps faltered as he tried and failed to wrap his head around the idea of Novak checking him out.

Meg insistently tugged on his arm to get him moving again, oblivious to Dean’s freak out. “That was incredibly rude. What should we do with him?”

“Tease him,” Dean said, amazed that he managed to speak at all. The fact that he did gave him a boost of confidence to look at Castiel, who was powering up his next glare.

“Impossible,” Meg said. “Castiel is a man without fault.”

“Everyone has a tendency for some evil, Meg,” Castiel reprimanded.

“Yours seems to be to hate everyone,” Dean said.

“And yours is to willfully misunderstand them,” Castiel snapped. “I find it hard to forgive the follies and vices of others. My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever.”

Dean barked out a laugh. “Well damn, Cas. I can’t tease you for that.”

Meg practically shoved him away as she went back to sunbathing.

Dean didn’t want to be the little kid who took his ball and went home when something didn’t go his way, but he suddenly _really_ wanted to go home.

\--

In the end, he and Sam went home on Tuesday.

Mary came to pick them up after running errands and Dean braced himself for the nonstop talking that was sure to happen the second they were alone with her. She’d want to know everything that they did at Jessica’s and then tell them every thing that happened while they were away. For the moment though, they had some peace to say their goodbyes. Jessica walked Sam to the car, ducking in briefly to say hello to Mary, which undoubtedly won her more points in Mary’s book. Dean tossed his bag in the backseat with Sam and was about to hop in after it when he heard Castiel call his name.

So much for a clean getaway.

“You dropped this,” Castiel said, referring to the dog-eared Tolkien. Dean hadn’t even realized he’d dropped it in his rush to get the fuck out of Dodge.

“Thanks,” he croaked, taken aback by the softness in Castiel’s voice. Too used to their barbed albeit few conversations to believe the man capable of speaking in tones other than those laced with sarcasm and bitterness.

Dean had always thought people who described romantic encounters as ‘electric’ were utter saps, but then Castiel’s fingers brushed against his as the book exchanged hands and he nearly dropped it again. He took a steadying breath and thanked Castiel before he stumbled into the car, trying to ignore the fact that his heart had skipped a beat or two for no reason and was still trying to regain its normal pace. He was definitely tamping down on the little voice in his head that said it was a shame Castiel was such an asshole, because he had extraordinarily nice hands.

“Sammy,” Dean said as they pulled away from the house. “With the exception of your girl, I’ve never been so happy to leave a place in my life.”

\--

Barely ten minutes after they got home, John announced that Garth – a second or third cousin a couple times removed – was coming into town on business for a week so everyone needed to be ready to have at least one family dinner with him. Dean immediately wanted to turn around and seek refuge with the Moores again, even if doing so meant being stared at by Castiel nonstop.

“Maybe he’s not as bad as we remember him being,” Sam said. “It’s been years. People change.”

Dean highly doubted that, but didn’t say anything.

Garth was just as bad as Dean remembered. A long time contender for the most awkward person Dean had ever met; his clumsiness and gangly appearance were truly a sight to behold. He had never understood how to hold a brief conversation; every sentence he spoke was at least five words or more. Dean knew. He counted once. But there was one redeeming thing about Garth – everything that made him annoying also made him an unintentional comedy gold mine.

Upon his arrival, Garth began taking full advantage of Mary’s invitation to come over whenever he wanted to and quickly became something like a fourth child in the house.

“I am most fortunate in my employer, the esteemed Ms. Naomi Milton. My front lawn is separated from her estate – Rosings Park – by a narrow lane,” Garth boasted around the dinner table one night.

“And you’re her estate manager?” Mary asked.

“Indeed I am, Mrs. Winchester. At least, that’s the title she’s graciously bestowed upon me.”

“Does she have any family?”

“A daughter named Hester, ma’am. Hester is, sadly, prone to sickness which prevents her from traveling much. I told Ms. Milton just the other day that the world has unknowingly been deprived its brightest jewel with Hester’s general absence from it.” Garth smiled and added quietly, “Just a little, delicate compliment that’s always acceptable to the ladies.”

Dean took a sudden interest in studying the contours of his pile of mashed potatoes so his smirk wouldn’t be noticed and Sam managed to cover his snort of laughter as a sneeze. Adam, however, choked on his water and had to be quickly rescued by a couple hard pats on the back by Charlie, who was there because Mary didn’t like the idea of her not getting a family dinner while her parents were out of town.

John, having spent the meal so far in silence interspersed with exchanging amused looks with Dean, intoned gravely from the head of the table, “That’s quite a talent you have, being able to flatter with such ‘delicacy’. Are these comments spur of the moment or…?”

“Generally yes, though I do enjoy creating ones that can be adapted to fit any occasion. Of course, I do my best to make those sound natural, too.”

This time, Adam’s water spurted out his nose and he had to excuse himself from the table.

\--

On Friday, Sam and Dean took Adam into town to buy the textbooks they couldn’t find for cheap on Amazon.

Though the fall semester was rapidly approaching, the campus bookstore had remarkably few people in it. A godsend since Dean remembered times when there were so many people it was almost impossible to move around, let alone find anything.

Dean scoured the English section for what seemed like ages, still unable to find the right course. Despite the bookstore’s level of organization, some books were almost impossible to find. Why Adam wasn’t over here doing this himself, he didn’t know. With a grunt of frustration, he turned to stalk off and slammed into someone.

“Shit, sorry,” Dean said, grabbing the guy’s wrist to stop him from falling.

“It’s fine,” the guy said. He smiled and held out the hand Dean had let go of. “I’m Michael.”

“Dean.”

“What’s got you so flustered you almost knock innocent men to the ground?”

“I… uh… my little brother,” Dean stammered. “I’m helping him buy books for the semester, but I can’t find the stupid class anywhere.”

“What’s he taking?”

“Uh…” Dean consulted the arm he’d scribbled on when they’d come up with their battle plan. “Professor Welch? _The 19 th Century Gothic_?”

Michael laughed. “No wonder you can’t find it. You’re in the wrong section.”

“How can I be in the wrong section? It’s an English course. I’m in the English section.”

“Yeah, but they changed the system. ‘ENG’ course code means you’re in the _graduate_ section. Undergrad is ‘ENL’.” Michael laughed again at the look on Dean’s face. “Hey, I didn’t make the rules. Come on, if it _is_ Welch’s class, you’re going to need someone to help you carry all the books.”

“Do you work here?” Dean asked as Michael added _The Woman in White_ to the growing stack in Dean’s arms. He was starting to suspect Adam hadn’t even tried Amazon. Most of the books in his arms were ones that could easily be found cheaper elsewhere.

“No,” Michael said. “I’m Professor Talbot’s assistant. I just like to see what books the English professors have assigned. See if there’s anything good I haven’t read yet.”

Adam came around the corner carrying a shopping basket that was practically empty.

“Thank you for finally showing up,” Dean said, tipping the pile of books in his arms into the basket.

“I ran into Ed,” Adam said defensively.

“You know I don’t like you hanging around Ed or Harry or any of those other guys. They’re idiots.”

Adam wasn’t listening. He was ogling Michael. “Dean, you should invite your new friend to come with us to Henricksen’s.”

“It’s just a stupid Friday tradition of ours,” Dean muttered as Michael raised an eyebrow. “Just me and my brothers and sometimes our friend Charlie.”

Michael’s smile sent Dean to an embarrassed, stuttering halt. “I’d like that a lot, just so long as you allow me to buy your brother’s books for you.”

“Michael, this is a small fortune in books.”

“I insist,” Michael said, still smiling as he took the basket from Adam’s hand. “You can make it up to me by buying me a beer and giving me your number.”

By the time Dean’s brain restarted, Michael was already at the checkout counter, throwing another disarmingly charismatic smile over his shoulder and Dean was at a loss again. Michael could honestly charm the pants off a housefly.

Adam sidled up beside him and snorted with laughter. “Oh man, you’ve got it _bad_.”

\--

They trekked over to Henricksen’s laden with books. They’d parked there earlier, and it was a relief to finally dump their shopping into the trunk. Trying to flirt with Michael while lugging what felt like twenty pounds of books on one of the hottest days they’d had all summer had been less than idyllic. Everyone was a sweaty mess by the time they felt the glorious, icy blast of air conditioning that accompanied the bar door opening.

“Well look who we finally found,” Jessica chirped happily as she stepped outside. “We were confused by your car being here but not you.”

“We’ve been on campus, buying Adam’s books,” Sam answered for the group. Bewilderedly he asked, “You were looking for us?”

“Yeah,” Jessica said with a small laugh. “I wanted to invite all of you to my house next week for a party. Don’t worry. It’s not anyone’s birthday or anything. It’s just a general get together.”

“Of course. We’d be glad to come. Thank you for inviting us.”

They stood stupidly on the sidewalk, beaming at each other and trying to figure out how to continue the finished conversation. Dean mentally added another couple of points in Jessica’s favor. There weren’t many who could stand being around Sam when he was this soaked in sweat. Maybe she was breathing through her mouth. The door opened again, hitting everyone with another refreshing breeze of cold air, and Castiel walked out.

Dean felt Michael stiffen beside him and Castiel’s face went through a series of rapid changes – going from surprise to the beginnings of a snarl to totally impassivity in a matter of seconds. Dean glanced between them, expecting a bomb to go off at any second. Castiel acknowledged Michael with a curt nod then shouldered past without a word. Jessica, noticing she’d being left in the dust by her friend, said some quick apologies and goodbyes to Sam and ran after Novak before he could get to the car and burn rubber.

What. The fuck. Was that?

Adam was oblivious to the shit that had just gone down and tugged on Dean’s arm to get him to move inside before everyone dropped dead from the heat.

“You gonna come to the party?” Dean asked, setting the beers down on the table he and Michael had commandeered for themselves, leaving Sam to babysit Adam.

“Maybe,” Michael said, already picking distractedly at his beer label. “How long has he been here? Novak, I mean.”

Dean shrugged. “About a month? Month and a half? Do you know him?” He tried to play it off innocently, but they both knew Dean had seen every second of their encounter.

Michael nodded and swallowed his mouthful of beer. “Since we were kids. I see that surprises you even more than our cold greeting.” He laughed bitterly. “I’m lucky to have a job here. Now, if Castiel doesn’t want me around, _he_ has to go. Not me.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, what happened?” Dean asked. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Michael shook his head. “It’s fine. To make a long story short, Castiel ruined me.”

Well that was a little dramatic. “And the long story?”

Michael sighed and took another swig of beer. “Castiel’s father was my godfather. When my parents died, I didn’t have anybody. Mr. Novak took me in and treated me like a second son. For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be a teacher. Mr. Novak promised to provide me with enough money to pursue that career. After he died, Castiel refused to give me a single cent of what I was promised.” He took another drink and huffed a self-deprecating laugh. “So here I am; a lowly assistant. Eking out a living and hoping that I might still become a teacher.”

Dean was at a complete loss for words. “W-why would he do that? I’m not his number one fan but even I can’t believe he’d…” He couldn’t finish the sentence and took a pull from his beer instead. It had gone warm.

“Jealousy,” Michael said with a shrug. “His father loved me more and Castiel couldn’t stand that. His pride had more than something to do with it too, I think.” He reached across the table and covered Dean’s hand with his own. “Don’t feel bad for me, Dean. I’ve got a good job and now your good company.”

\--

“No,” Sam said. His eyes tracked Dean’s pacing across the floor while he sat on Dean’s bed, idly fiddling with the dog-eared pages of some beaten up, half-destroyed paperback. “There’s no way Castiel would do something like that.”

“Do you never think badly of anyone?”

Sam shrugged. “I could ask Jess about it the next time I see her.”

“Cas should be able to defend himself,” Dean said, his voice dismissive and cracking like a whip.

“Dean,” Sam said in a reasoning tone, “let me remind you that you only met Michael _today_.”

“You didn’t talk to him like I did. If you had, you’d know he’s an open book. I mean, why would he make up a story like that?”

“You like him,” Sam argued. “You like him and you want his story to be true because you don’t like Cas. His supposed mistreatment of Michael would give you an _actual reason_ for disliking him.”

“I have real reasons for not liking Cas.”

“Other than his refusing to dance with you on the Fourth?”

Dean made a face and shoved Sam off his bed. Sam snorted, moving across the room to his own bed. He turned off the lamp and plunged the attic into relative darkness.

“We shouldn’t jump to conclusions based on the story of someone who, regardless of how honest they may be, we’ve only just met,” Sam said. “I will admit it’s a complex situation. I don’t know what to think.”

“I know _exactly_ what to think,” Dean muttered darkly.

\--

An actual invitation to Jessica’s party appeared in their mailbox the next day. It extended to everyone in the Winchester household including Garth, who was supposed to be out of their hair by then but had extended his visit just so he could go. Dean wanted to ask how he was able to take another week off from work like it was no big deal. Especially since Garth was obsessed with his job and wouldn’t shut up about how amazing his boss was.

He’d also taken to hanging around Dean more than any other member of the family, constantly pestering him with weird questions about his future plans. Grilling him about his B.A. in history and what was he leaning towards as a career in that field and what graduate schools – if any – he was looking at applying to. They were all questions Dean had been asking himself for the past two years without any answers. His terse replies and accompanying shrugs always led to Garth rapturously parroting things Ms. Naomi Milton told him at some point. Stuff like goals and the benefits of making five year plans. Dean wanted to punch Garth in the face when he went off on these tangents. He knew about goals and five year plans. He just never the point of them since every goal he’d ever set had fallen apart one way or another.

Michael had become a breath of fresh air in Dean’s increasingly stagnant life and a means of escaping Garth’s pestering. It helped that Michael got along with everyone. Even John seemed to like him. Or at least tolerated his occasional presence in the house over the next week, which was more than could be said for some of the people Dean brought home in the past. It seemed like every minute they weren’t together, he and Michael were texting. He was sure he had a permanent grin on his face. It was worth the need to upgrade his texting plan.

\--

Dean loved his family. He really, truly did. There were just a lot of people in his immediate family. It seemed like there was a big, flashing neon sign over their heads saying ‘WINCHESTERS HERE’ with a couple arrows pointing at them when they were in public. And there was a pervading feeling that everyone was competing to see who could be the most ridiculous. That is, everyone but Sam. Sam was always the exception that proved the rule.

By the time they were greeted at the door by Jessica, Dean was already waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for someone to do something stupid and embarrassing and quietly praying that no one important would be around to witness it.

Dean made a quick once around in search of Michael. Despite the text Michael had sent confirming he’d be there, he couldn’t be found. However, Dean found the next best thing. Charlie. She looked like she’d been there for a while so she probably knew more about who was and wasn’t there.

“Have you seen Michael?” Dean asked.

Charlie’s answering head shake was a stab to the gut. “Maybe he’s just running late,” she said, placing a reassuring hand on Dean’s arm. “Or I haven’t seen him yet. There are _a lot_ of people here.”

Sam approached, armed with three beers. “Get this,” he started. That was never a good way for Sam to start a conversation. That always meant shit was going down. “I saw Ed and Harry. They said Michael isn’t gonna make it tonight. He got tied up in some pre-semester paperwork snafu.”

No sooner had the words left Sam’s mouth than Dean spotted Castiel hanging out by a wall to avoid interacting with human beings. He felt his blood boil at the sight of him. Paperwork snafu his ass. Castiel was the only reason Michael wasn’t here and everyone should know it. Dean took a step toward Novak, with every intention of sanfuing _him_ right off the pavement, but Garth came out of nowhere and Dean’s night took an even steeper nosedive.

“My dear cousin, would you do me the honor of being my dancing partner for the next song? Though I may not look very graceful, my esteemed employer – Ms. Naomi Milton – has complimented me on my lightness of foot on more than one occasion.”

To Dean’s mounting horror, both Sam and Charlie up and vanished like they were never there. Dean was two seconds away from turning Garth down with a half-assed excuse, but it was two seconds too late and Garth was dragging him over to the impromptu dance floor the living room had been turned into.

It immediately became obvious that Ms. Milton had either been humoring Garth or outright lying to him about his dancing skills. In the only bit of luck Dean felt that he was going to get all night, the song was short and he got away before Garth could propose another dance or worse, a conversation. Garth had said it was his intention to ‘remain close throughout the evening’, a phrase that made Dean’s skin crawl and wonder if they lived in one of those states where it was still okay for cousins to marry.

“This is a disaster,” Dean groaned while he and Charlie took a breather in the kitchen. Charlie snorted and continued to carefully mix a drink, a talent she’d picked up from all the trips to Henricksen’s. Dean wanted to ask if she was attempting to make a Tzartak Aperitif, but he couldn’t even nerd properly in his current state of mind and that was just wrong.

“First Michael doesn’t show up because ‘I’m a douchebag’ Novak is too much of a pu–”

“Dean!” Charlie snapped. Dean jumped and followed her gaze to where Castiel was standing awkwardly near the fridge.

Castiel cleared his throat. “I was going to ask if you wanted to dance.”

“Sure,” Dean said faintly. Castiel nodded and left without waiting for Dean to follow. He immediately turned to ask Charlie, “Did I just agree to dance with Cas?” Charlie gave him a somewhat sympathetic look and gently shoved him in the direction of the living room. He made a mental note to fill her shampoo with Nair the next chance he got. He knew a disingenuous Charlie look when he saw one. What exactly had he done in a past life to deserve this kind of treatment?

It somehow got infinitely worse.

Dean joined Castiel right as the music changed to a slow song and all the couples started partnering up. He almost bolted, but he’d stupidly agreed to a dance and the guy already hated him enough. He didn’t want to add ‘going back on ridiculous promises’ to Castiel’s list. There was some awkwardness over who would be putting whose hands on whose waist, but Castiel came out on top and Dean resigned himself to following Castiel’s lead. He glared at anyone who dared look at them, making it clear that if he so much as saw a camera, there would be blood.

“I always kinda liked this song,” Dean said, attempting to break their uncomfortable silence.

“Yes,” Castiel said and the silence fell between them again.

“We need to have some conversation, Cas,” Dean said with a laugh. When in doubt, fall back on picking on Castiel’s inability to have normal human interaction. “You could talk about the number of couples or how different this shindig is from the Fourth.”

Castiel sighed and very nearly rolled his eyes. “Do always talk while dancing?”

“No. I prefer to be antisocial. It makes parties _much_ more enjoyable.”

To his credit, Castiel rose to the challenge. “Do you and your brothers often walk from the college to Henricksen’s?”

“Often enough. It’s good exercise and we sometimes meet new people. In fact, you met us after we’d made a new friend just the other day.”

To his surprise, Castiel laughed, though there was no humor in it. “Ah, yes, Michael. He’s blessed with the ability to – how did you put it? – make friends and influence people? Whether or not he’s capable to keeping them is less certain.”

“He couldn’t keep _your_ friendship. If I remember correctly, your good opinion, once lost, is lost forever.”

“It is. May I ask where this is going?”

Dean shrugged. “I’m just trying to figure you out.”

“How’s that going?”

“Badly. I keep hearing wildly different stories about you.”

“In the future, I’ll try to provide you with more clarity.”

The song thankfully came to an end. Dean couldn’t get away from Castiel fast enough, stalking off in a huff only to run into Garth.

“Dean, is that Castiel Novak?” Garth asked breathlessly.

“Yes?”

“I have to say hello to him. He’s the nephew of Ms. Naomi Milton.”

“Garth, don’t,” Dean said, but it was too late and Dean could only watch in horror as Garth silenced half the room getting Castiel’s attention. Castiel’s eyes found Dean’s and turned accusatory. As if Dean would intentionally unleash Garth on anyone.

“You have interesting relatives, Dean,” Meg said in her bored drawl, having snuck up behind him while he’d been occupied with watching the train wreck unfold. Dean sighed and pinched at the bridge of his nose, hoping the earth would open up and swallow him whole already.

He later came to believe the encounter between Garth and Castiel was a cue for the whole family to start the embarrassment competition. He saw Adam flirting outrageously with anything that moved; his fake, obnoxious, high-pitched laughter acting like a homing beacon in the din. Mary was loudly gossiping with the other members of the neighborhood grapevine about Sam and Jessica’s relationship, drawing the attention of several other partygoers as she declared that they were practically engaged already. He could tell by her complexion that she’d had one too many and he grabbed John to do any necessary damage control.

He took refuge in finding Charlie again, who was talking to some of their mutual friends, and counting the seconds until they could leave.

\--

Dean spent the next day sitting on an old milk crate in the relative quiet of the laundry room. There were only so many places he could work on all the grad school essays he’d fallen behind on without getting interrupted every five seconds. He’d thought about getting on his bike and going to the library, but he was out of clean clothes and opted to kill two birds with one stone.

“How wonderful it is to have finally found where you’ve been hiding all day.” Dean reined in the urge to beat his head against the wall as Garth entered the room. He repeatedly tried to hop up onto the dryer before giving up and settling on the floor near Dean’s cramped work place. “I was wondering if I could borrow a moment of your time to ask you a very important question.”

“Sure. It’s not like I’m working or anything,” Dean said. As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized what a terrible mistake that was. Garth had never grasped the concept of sarcasm.

“I should make it known that my visit was not solely for seeing family and attending business seminars, however delightful they both were,” Garth said. “My true design was to make you the companion for my future life.”

Shit. Dean knew he should’ve looked up that whole cousin marriage thing.

“Garth…”

He held up a hand for silence. “It is at the urging of my employer – Ms. Naomi Milton – that I find a partner. When she came to me with the idea of modernizing our, admittedly, old-fashioned manner in which we run the tourism aspect of the estate, I knew you would be the perfect fit for such a task.”

“Wait. This is a job offer?”

“But of course it is,” Garth said, looking confused. Dean hoped it was because he’d interrupted the prepared speech and not because Garth suspected his bizarre marital thoughts. “Due to your aspirations for entering into a career that is history oriented; a job assisting me with managing Rosings is an ideal profession, is it not?”

“Garth, I’m going to grad school.”

“And while I agree that graduate school is a noble pursuit, I am willing to make that sacrifice and give you and your mere bachelor’s degree an offer that you – heh – can’t refuse. I’m sure that once you’ve heard me out, you’ll be more than willing to abandon your hopes of furthering your education.”

“No.”

“But you haven’t heard the lucrative pay grade and numerous benefits I have procured for you. I’ve compiled several different proposals tailored for your various and specific needs. Surely there is one that will sway you to our way of thinking.”

“I don’t think you heard me. The answer is _no_ ,” Dean said, gathering up his things. “Nothing you say will change my mind. I don’t want to work at Rosings. Your offer might appeal to some, but not me.”

Garth opened his mouth to speak, but Dean was already out the door.

\--

The aftermath of Garth’s failed proposal shook the house. Mary was infuriated with Dean for turning down the offer and nothing he said could make it any better. Pointing out that she’d been the one to encourage him to go to grad school in the first place only made her angrier.

“It’s been two years since you got your bachelor’s and you’ve only become serious about grad school recently. With Adam in college, and the economy as it is, we’re barely getting by. You getting a job would ease a lot of the pressure we’re under.”

But Dean _did_ have a job. He picked up shifts at Henricksen’s all the time, helped out at the garage, and would be returning to his part time post at the campus library once the semester started. Sure, none were full time and he wasn’t raking in money, but he was able to pay for his cell phone and help pay for groceries and bills. He wasn’t a complete burden.

He didn’t know if John’s acceptance of the situation was because he was more understanding of Dean’s wishes or if he was simply apathetic to the whole thing. He probably just wanted the house to go back to normal. But, no matter what John’s stance was on the matter, Dean still got his ear talked off by Mary every time she saw him.

Charlie was the one to come to Dean’s rescue. She talked Garth out of trying to change Dean’s mind, ran interference to sooth Mary’s frayed nerves, and reassured Dean when he began to doubt his plans. Garth stopped coming over and Charlie texted to say that Garth was hanging around her family’s place and not to worry.

The next bombshell hit on Garth’s last night in town. Charlie came over while Mary was in the middle of one of her tirades, pulled Dean into another room, and told him she’d taken the job.

“But we’re going to grad school together,” Dean said after their childish shouting match following the news had ended when someone yelled at them to stop yelling at each other. “That was the plan. Go together and keep each other sane.”

“Did you even listen to what Garth was offering?” Charlie asked. “I know what I said about school, but I’ve got to be realistic. I’m a huge burden on my parents. The only work I’ve gotten between undergrad and now is what you’ve managed to throw my way. I’ve been deferring on my student loans–”

“So have I,” Dean argued. “You’re _not_ going with Garth and showing snot nosed tourists around some stupid mansion. You’re going to grad school and you’re going do something awesome with your life, not dead end it before you start.”

Charlie’s face hardened. “Okay. First of all, I’m not dead ending as you so gently put it. I negotiated the ever loving shit out of Garth’s _multiple_ offers and we came up with something that best suited _my_ needs and _my_ plans for _my_ future. And secondly, it may look like a shit job to you, but it isn’t to me. It’s done, Dean. I’m going with Garth for an interview with Ms. Milton this weekend, but Garth said that it’s just a formality.”

“What about all your stuff?”

“I’m coming back for it. I just want you to understand that, by this time next week, I’ll have moved and be working at my new job.”

Charlie left a few minutes later, each of them feeling how frustratingly unresolved everything was, but Dean – who moped for the rest of the day – thought they’d managed to part on slightly better grounds than they’d started on. But he knew he might’ve been deluding himself.

Sam had been in a mood all day too. He and Dean made quite a pair, sulking around the house in their own fashions and not telling anyone why they were sulking in the first place. It was only after everyone else had gone to bed that Dean pried an answer out of Sam, who morosely tossed Dean his phone in response. It unlocked to show an email Sam had gotten from Meg.

“I don’t believe this,” Dean said as he read and reread the message.

It was short and coldly worded, saying only that Jessica and Meg had left for Chicago. Meg didn’t know when, if ever, they’d return.

“I went past their house today and it’s empty,” Sam said. “Jessica didn’t say anything to me about leaving. They just vanished during the night. I don’t know what I did.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Dean said, the despondency in Sam’s voice causing a dull ache in his heart. “This has Meg written all over it. She saw how much you and Jessica liked each other and she couldn’t stand it. Jessica would never leave without at least saying goodbye first.”

Sam shook his head. “Meg wouldn’t do something like that. It’s more likely that Jessica doesn’t like me and never did.”

“She _does_ like you, Sammy. Don’t you dare think otherwise,” Dean said. “Anyone with eyes can see how much she adores you.” He grabbed Sam’s arm to get his attention. “Come on, cheer up. I bet you she’ll be back within two weeks buying you some ridiculously expensive steak dinner.”

\--

Two weeks came and went without responding to a single on of Sam’s texts, calls, or emails. When all of Dean’s attempts to cheer him up failed horribly, he decided to try and keep Sam occupied instead and found reasons to get him out of the house. They went to help Charlie pack and load up her car once she’d come back with a better understanding of what exactly she’d be doing at Rosings. Dean, having had time to mull over the situation, pressed a kiss to her temple and apologized for the billionth time for his behavior. He’d somehow forgotten that Charlie was Charlie and everything she did was awesome. And if it wasn’t, she’d make it so.

In the weeks that followed, Michael attempted to fill the gap Charlie’s absence left and did a decent enough job. It was great for Dean – who got to make out with an extremely hot assistant – and not so great for Sam who, in the search of privacy so he could mope about Jessica in peace, sometimes walked in on them mid-grope.

“So I heard from Meg again,” Sam said one night while they sat in the living room.

“Yeah?” Dean asked, trying to sound as neutral as possible.

“Yeah,” Sam sighed. “And she said they won’t be back until next summer at the earliest.”

“Come on, Sammy,” John said, eavesdropping from the couch. This was unheard of since there was a game on TV. “Everyone likes to get dumped now and then. It sets them apart from everyone else for a while. You keep an eye on your brother and that Michael guy. He’s nice enough and he’s already stood Dean up once. I’m sure he’ll do a fantastic job when they inevitably break up.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Dean said. “But we can’t all expect Sam’s luck.”

He’d hoped to get a laugh out of Sam, but he got that kicked puppy look instead and left. Dean, unsure if it was his comments or John’s that had stung worse, threw John an accusatory look for having baited him in the first place. John shrugged and turned his attention back to the game.

Dean hoped to catch Sam in the hallway, but Sam’s ridiculously long legs and head start meant that he was already in the attic by the time Dean reached the second floor landing.

“Don’t tease me, Dean,” Sam said when Dean was only halfway up the attic stairs.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said, coming up the rest of the stairs. “I shouldn’t’ve said that. I’ve been thinking, though, about the whole Jess thing. And I know how unhappy you are at your job. What if you went to Chicago? Uncle Bobby and Aunt Ellen are up there and god knows they’re better at doling out parental advice than ours are. Bobby could pull some strings, maybe set you up at Jody’s firm.”

“Go to Chicago,” Sam repeated slowly, like Dean didn’t understand what he’d just said. “Where Jessica is.”

“Hell yes! Romcom it up! Ask her why she didn’t have the decency to tell you she was leaving in the first place. Just don’t be creepy ex turned stalker.”

Sam, who Dean now realized had been on the verge of tears this whole time, sniffled then dredged up a small laugh and an even smaller smile. “You really think so?”

“I think you’d be a lot happier if you got out of this place. Even for a while.”

Sam called Bobby later that night and they came up with a plan. By some stroke of luck, Jody was looking for new associates. Even if she wound up _not_ hiring him, she knew the higher ups of almost every other law firm in the greater Chicago area, more than a few of them owing her a couple favors. Bobby and Ellen also offered to let Sam stay at their place so he didn’t have to worry about finding an apartment as soon as he arrived in town.

\--

Sam’s leaving was bittersweet and happened too soon for Dean’s liking. The house felt infinitely smaller and quieter without Sam’s presence, and it took Dean two full, sleepless weeks to get used to the lack of snoring from the other bed.

Michael had been spending more and more time with Professor Talbot. He called soon after Sam left for Chicago to say he’d be accompanying Professor Talbot to parts unknown, assisting her with researching her next book while she was on sabbatical.

Without Sam, Charlie, or Michael, Dean was left with no one sane to talk to. Sam was too busy at Jody’s firm to maintain regular correspondence, but Dean didn’t mind. He was happy that Sam was happy, and he could wait until the workload died down. Charlie, having been at her job longer, was better at keeping in touch. It wasn’t the same as getting to talk to her face to face, though. As for Michael, Dean’s calls, texts, and emails were replied to later and later until communication broke down entirely. Dean initially felt slightly hurt by this turn of events, but their relationship had been more of an end of summer fling than committed and long term and he soon got over it.

Several weeks later, Charlie called begging him to come visit her ASAP, citing their most recent conversations as proof that he needed to get out of the house. She sweetened the deal with a paid internship opportunity. Enough money that he could pay for his latest round of grad school application fees and finally get Mary off his back about Garth.

He was on the road before the sun was up the next morning, and was pulling up to Charlie’s place by mid-afternoon. Garth insisted on having them both over for dinner at his place and they walked from Charlie’s half of the duplex to Garth’s, using the front doors because the hallway connecting the two halves was only for life threatening emergencies – a standing rule Charlie had put in place the day she’d moved in.

Dean was practically skipping. He may have to spend an evening with Garth, but he was finally with Charlie again after only hearing from her once or twice a week.

The more Dean learned about what Charlie had been doing, the prouder he got and the more certain he became that he was never the right person for the job. Rosings was both Ms. Milton’s home and a historic mansion with the grounds housing numerous botanic gardens. Charlie’s computer skills were what were called for and her modernizing changes had tripled the estate’s revenue. She’d also never given a single tour, though she broke her personal record to show Dean around.

He was surprised by other changes Charlie had made. Most importantly, how she’d gotten Garth to finally speak in sentences containing less than five words, reining him in if he got wordy. He was still Garth of course, still the most awkward man Dean had ever met, but now Dean found it more endearing than annoying. Hell, he even let Garth give him a hug.

For the most part, Dean’s internship consisted of assisting Charlie with creating a computer database of the estate’s acquisitions. When he wasn’t working on the database, Dean found other ways to be useful. He gave tours whenever they were overrun with tourists or short staffed. He occasionally worked the front desk and in the gift shop and sometimes he helped the landscaping crews in the gardens. He also joined Charlie’s D&D campaign and the betting pool for how long it would take her and the upstairs art gallery curator, Gilda, to hook up.

After being at Rosings for almost a month, he had yet to _see_ the esteemed Ms. Naomi Milton, let alone meet her. He started to think she didn’t actually exist.

That all changed in mid-October.

Garth knocked frantically on the ‘For Life Threatening Emergencies Only’ connective door while Dean and Charlie lounged around on their day off having a _Firefly_ marathon. Charlie immediately ran to answer it.

“Charlie, Dean,” Garth greeted between gasps. “My – pardon – _our_ esteemed employer, Ms. Naomi Milton, has just called–”

“Garth, we talked about this,” Charlie sighed.

Garth’s mouth opened in shock as he realized which door he had just used. “My sincerest apologies,” he said, pulling on the door knob to try and close the door while Charlie held it open.

“You’re already here. Don’t go to the front door if you’re already here.”

“Of course, sorry again.” Garth cleared his throat. “We’ve all been invited to Rosings for dinner tonight.”

Dean glanced down at his ratty jeans and t-shirt whose seams were more holes than fabric. Charlie, sensing Dean’s train of thought, said, “Just put on what you wear to work. Or a nicer version if you’ve got it.”

“Ms. Milton admires humility,” Garth added solemnly.

\--

Ms. Milton and her daughter lived in a private wing of Rosings. Dean thought the residency wouldn’t be nearly as opulent as the mansion proper. He was wrong. Ms. Milton’s residential wing was bigger and nicer than Netherfield. Something Dean hadn’t thought possible.

Garth led the way into what Dean imagined everyone called the parlor because they’d passed at least three rooms that looked more comfortable on their way into this one. Charlie discretely coughed and shook her head when Garth looked like he might actually _bow_ to Ms. Milton and Hester like it was the 1800s.

The only word Dean could think of to describe Ms. Naomi Milton was sharp. Battle-axe sharp. All clean pressed lines, intense gray eyes, and hair pulled back in a bun so tight that it made Dean’s head hurt just looking at it. Hester only looked dull in comparison because of her proximity to Ms. Milton. Dean was positive she was as much a force to be reckoned with as her mother despite her reported ill-health.

“You must be Dean Winchester,” Naomi said with a smile that made Dean feel like he was a new specimen of bug, seconds away from being pinned to a display board.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Further conversation was cut off by the ornate double doors on the other side of the room opening and Castiel walking in, animatedly talking over his shoulder to a man who bore a passing resemblance to Ms. Milton. When his companion stopped dead at the sight of the three guests, Castiel faltered to a halt as well, a confused look on what little Dean could see of his face until he turned and saw their company.

“Cas?” Dean asked. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m a guest here for the weekend.”

“You know my nephew?” Ms. Milton asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean said, not taking his eyes off Castiel. “We met while he was staying with Jessica Moore in Lawrence.” He looked inquisitively at the man Castiel came into the room with. The guy smiled, breaking the palpable tension.

“I’m Inias,” he said, shaking Dean’s hand quickly. “I’m Hester and Cas’ cousin.”

“Ah. Having yourself a family reunion?” Dean asked, taking an immediate liking to Inias.

Inias laughed. “A _very_ small one, believe me.”

\--

Dinner was awkward.

Dean barely got to eat any of the five courses served because Ms. Milton kept asking him questions. She quizzed him about his home life and his family – with particular emphasis on his brothers – then moved onto treading the same ground Garth had covered: what he studied in college, his grad school applications, his job prospects. Dean got the feeling that Ms. Milton would’ve hooked him up to a polygraph if she’d been given half a chance. Charlie, Garth, and even Inias tried to come to Dean’s rescue and swing the topic of conversation away from the microscopic examination of Dean’s life. Ms. Milton shot down their every attempt. Castiel took up his favorite pastime of staring at Dean, and he wondered if Castiel was going to start interrogating him too.

Ms. Milton was in the middle of berating Dean for letting Adam join him and Sam at the bar every Friday when Dean snapped. “Henricksen’s is one of the only places in town to hang out on a Friday night and everyone who works there knows Adam’s underage,” he said. “Leaving him behind and having all the fun to ourselves would hardly encourage brotherly affection. I’m the oldest. It’s my job to keep the peace.”

“You give your opinion very decidedly,” Ms. Milton said coldly, setting down her cutlery with a clang that echoed in the overly large dining room.

Dean knew he was probably in for a lecture from Charlie about his conduct potentially jeopardizing both his internship and her ongoing employment, but Dean couldn’t find it in himself to care at the moment. Ms. Milton had finally gotten off his case – changing the subject to Castiel’s sister, who was practically perfect in every way – and Dean could eat some of his pie. It may have gone cold since they served it, but it tasted like victory.

\--

They congregated in one of the living rooms after dinner for coffee. Ms. Milton took Garth and Charlie aside to discuss business matters, leaving Dean alone with Castiel and Inias once Hester had made her excuses and turned in early.

Inias took the initiative and set up a small poker game in the corner of the room, since there were no other means of entertaining themselves readily available. Dean had never been very good at poker. It had always been Sam’s game of choice while Dean worked the pool table. Sam’s ability to kick ass at the poker table had always been a surprise. He was so nice, one would think he’d hemorrhage chips, but he didn’t.

Conversation picked up after it became clear Charlie and the others wouldn’t be ending their impromptu business meeting anytime soon.

“I hope your family’s in good health,” Castiel remarked as he raised the bet.

“They are,” Dean replied. Realizing this was most likely the only chance he’d get, he added, “Sam got a job in Chicago not too long ago.”

“I didn’t know that,” Castiel said and fuck did he have an immaculate poker face. “I’m sorry to have missed him on my last trip there.”

“Well it’s a big city,” Dean said, trying to brush it off as no big deal while he vividly remembered Sam’s last email describing a chance encounter he’d had with Meg and how his opinion of her had drastically changed when faced with her true coldness.

They lapsed into another silence as Inias dealt another hand. Castiel’s eyes bored into the side of Dean’s head as he debated whether to fold or wait and see what luck, if any, the turn would bring him.

Dean huffed a laugh. “You tryin’a scare me, Cas? I should warn you, I get ballsier when someone tries to intimidate me.” He emphasized his point by making a slightly higher bet than would be considered wise.

“I’d like to think by now that I know you well enough to know I couldn’t intimidate you if I wanted to.”

Dean didn’t want to touch that statement _or_ its implications with a ten foot pole.

Inias had a stupid, small grin on his face, looking for all the world like he knew something they didn’t. “I have to ask,” he said, that small grin widening at the death glare Castiel sent his way. “What was Castiel like when you met him?”

“You sure you wanna know? It’s not good.”

Inias nodded, chuckling at Castiel’s ongoing attempts to kill him with his brain.

“When I first met Cas, it was at a party,” Dean explained, smirking at Castiel’s discomfort. “He didn’t dance or talk with anyone, even though there were several people who were more than willing to do either or both.”

“I didn’t know anyone other than Jessica or Meg,” Castiel argued.

“And you can’t meet people at parties?”

Before Castiel could respond, Ms. Milton called from across the room, “Inias? Come here, please.”

Inias immediately stood, pushing his cards to the middle of the table, and still grinning. “I had a crappy hand, anyway.”

Once Inias had left – clapping Castiel on the shoulder as he passed, Castiel leaned forward and quietly said, “As you have pointed out to me on more than one occasion, I’m not very good at talking to people I’ve only just met.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you should _practice_.”

\--

The next day, Dean was typing an email to Sam and waiting for Charlie to get back from another meeting so they could go get lunch when he heard someone knocking on Garth’s door. Dean got up from the kitchen table, confused because Garth was at the meeting too. Since he couldn’t see Garth’s door from the window, Dean stepped out onto the porch.

“Cas?”

“Ah,” Castiel said. He pointed at Garth’s door. “This isn’t Charlie’s place.”

“No,” Dean confirmed. “She and Garth aren’t here right now.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You’re not. I was just writing to Sammy. I never asked you about Jess or Meg. How are they?”

“They’re good. At least, they were when I last saw them.”

“And Jess doesn’t plan on returning to Lawrence?”

“She most likely won’t be able to spend much time there in the future, no.”

“Then why doesn’t she sell the house? If she thinks she’ll be there so little,” Dean said, only realizing after he’d spoken how accusatory his tone had been.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she did,” Castiel said shortly, his tone mildly defensive. The conversational lull turned into an uncomfortable silence. “This is a nice house,” he said, in an awful attempt to keep the conversation going and set a more polite tone. “I think my aunt did some work on it when Garth was hired?”

“I think so, yeah. She couldn’t have done it for a more grateful person.”

Castiel shifted from one foot to the other and Dean, having promised Charlie he’d try to be more civil to Ms. Milton and her relations, noticed he was being rude.

“I’m sorry, d’you wanna come in? I think we still got a couple beers.”

Charlie came around the corner, walking back from Rosings and half listening to whatever Garth was saying. Castiel warily watched their approach and said distractedly, “No. No thank you. I won’t trespass on your time any longer. But please, send my regards to your family?”

“Sure, Cas.”

But Castiel was already down the front steps and walking away from the duplex. He pushed past Garth and Charlie without a word, his familiar trench coat flapping slightly in his wake.

Charlie joined him on the porch and watched Castiel go with a look of bewilderment on her face. “What just happened?”

“I have no idea,” Dean said honestly.

They stood in dumbfounded silence until Castiel rounded the corner and vanished from sight.

\--

“Thought I might lend a hand,” Inias said, helping Dean clear off an antique desk in the study.

The room had been closed off for the day so Dean and Charlie could document everything for the database. Charlie had already set up a proper photography area complete with lighting and backdrop for getting pictures consistent with the ones they had already taken. She’d left the room several minutes ago to help Garth deal with some crisis, but – as her return became more and more delayed – it became obvious that the crisis was compounding. The job would take forever if Dean soldiered on by himself, so Inias’ intrusion and offer was more than welcome.

“Haven’t seen you guys since October,” Dean said, placing a silver inkwell on the nondescript white stand to be photographed. “How long are you here for this time?”

“Castiel and I are only back here for Thanksgiving. But I’m stuck with him for as long as he needs me,” Inias said, manning the camera Charlie had mounted on a tripod.

“That seems to be the story of everyone in he knows.”

Inias laughed and shrugged, not denying Dean’s statement. “Castiel’s a loyal guy. He tends to expect the same loyalty in return.”

They worked in companionable silence for several minutes, Inias taking the pictures and Dean setting up each item.

“About what you said last time,” Inias said carefully, “about the first time you met Cas? You should know that Castiel doesn’t make the best first impression. He’s got the social skills of a reclusive lobster, but he’s a good guy and a loyal friend once you get to know him.”

Dean made a noncommittal grunt as he ensured they’d put the desk back exactly where it’d started. He grabbed one of the wingback chairs to be photographed next.

“For example,” Inias said, sensing that Dean was going to be a hard sell, “he recently saved one of his friends from diving into a really terrible relationship.”

Dean’s head jerked up so fast from positioning the chair he thought he might’ve given himself whiplash. “Who was the friend?”

The answer turned Dean’s stomach. “Jessica Moore.”

“Did he say why?”

Inias shrugged again. “He had strong objections.”

“What kind of objections? Were they not rich enough?” Dean pressed.

“I think it had something more to do with their family.” Inias quirked his head to the side in a gesture so like Castiel, Dean wondered if it was a family trait. “You all right?”

Dean mentally kicked himself; he should’ve been playing this much cooler. He pulled himself together and did a nonchalant shrug of his own. “I just fail to see why he thinks he has the right to determine what his friends need to be happy. But, we don’t have all the facts. Maybe the relationship was one-sided.”

“Maybe,” Inias said, but he looked like he didn’t believe Dean’s bluff.

\--

“Are you sure?” Charlie asked for the sixteenth time. “Because you know I’m more than willing to stay here with you than have another dinner with Milton. It’s bad enough neither of us got to go home to see our families for Thanksgiving, but spending it _alone_?”

“It’s fine,” Dean said, flashing her a reassuring smile. “I just got a headache from working too long in that dusty attic. It’s my fault for not wearing a dust mask. Go on. Eat some pie for me.”

Dean just wanted to be alone so he could mull over everything Inias had said. The scheme to break up Sam and Jess had always reeked more of Meg’s doing than Cas’. But maybe they’d worked together. He wrote Sam a dissertation length email about everything that had happened: seeing Castiel, what Inias said about the breakup, everything. Then he’d deleted it all and slammed the lid of his laptop shut. It might bite him in the ass later, but he didn’t want to put all this on Sam, especially the stuff about Jessica.

When the doorbell rang, Dean had to resist the urge to yell at whoever it was to go away. It could’ve been Charlie, coming home early to keep him company. She might’ve had her hands full or forgotten her keys so Dean grouched over to the door and yanked it open, too mad about his peace being interrupted to be nice.

Castiel didn’t wait for an invitation. He simply barged in like he owned the place, looking pissed.

Dean slammed the door shut behind him. “The hell, Cas?”

Castiel was pacing and dragging his fingers through his hair to the point of complete disarray. He was without his trench coat and that somehow made him look bigger instead of smaller. His black suit made him ominous as he stalked about the room like a caged tiger. Dean tried to get his attention again and Castiel rounded on him.

“I can’t do this anymore. My purpose coming to Rosings last month was to see _you_ , Dean. And I returned against my better judgment, against the inferiority of your social standing, against my aunt’s wishes, against everything,” Castiel said in a frenzied rush.

“What are you talking about?” Dean snapped.

“I love you.”

He could almost hear the record needle screech as his thought processes ground to an immediate halt. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. Castiel _hated_ him and he hated Castiel right back. Everyone knew that. It was how it was and how it always would be. He floundered for a moment trying to find the right words, but all that came up was a flat, “What.”

“I love you,” Castiel repeated.

When he spoke again, his voice could chisel ice. “Please leave.”

Castiel went still as a statue. The conversation had obviously not gone the way he’d expected. “Is that your reply?”

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, but I need you to leave.”

“May I ask why you’re rejecting me?”

“So long as I can ask why you chose to tell me you liked me against your better judgment,” Dean snarled. “But I have other reasons and you know it.”

Dean could see the hackles rising. “Like what?”

“Do you really think there’s anything you could say that would convince me to love someone who has ruined, perhaps forever, the happiness of my little brother?” Castiel didn’t respond, but he’d adopted a deer in headlights look which was all Dean needed to see to know Inias’ story was true. “Why’d you do it?”

“I thought he was indifferent.” And he had the indecency to shrug like it was nothing. “I watched them and saw Jessica’s desire to continue the relationship was greater than Sam’s.”

“That’s because he’s shy.”

“Jessica is too and didn’t think he felt as strongly for her.”

“Because _you_ suggested it,” Dean said, dimly aware that they’d started shouting at each other at some point.

“I did it for her own good.”

“You stuck up, half-witted, scruffy-looking nerf herder!”

“Who’s scruffy-looking?” And Dean was too pissed off to wonder if Castiel had actually just quoted _Star Wars_ back at him in the middle of a fight or if he was genuinely confused by Dean’s outburst.

“My brother hardly shows his true feelings to _me_ ,” Dean said. “I suppose you thought Jessica’s money had something to do with it?”

“No!” Castiel looked repulsed by the very idea. “I wouldn’t think that for a second, though it was made perfectly clear _by your family_ on numerous occasions that an ongoing relationship would be advantageous.” His ran his fingers through his hair again and took a calming breath. “I apologize,” he said, his voice finally at a reasonable level. “You and Sam I must exclude from that.”

A terrible, ringing silence fell between them.

“And Michael?” Dean asked quietly. A thrill of triumph ran down his spine when Castiel stiffened at the name.

A dimple formed between Castiel’s brows as his eyes narrowed to a squint. “You take an eager interest in his concerns.”

“He told me what you did.”

“Oh yes, what _I_ did,” Castiel said with an eye roll.

“You ruined his life and you’re being _sarcastic_?”

“So this is your opinion of me,” Castiel said slowly. “ _Thank you_ for explaining. Perhaps those issues could’ve been overlooked if your pride–”

“ _My_ pride?”

“–hadn’t been hurt by my being open about the doubts I’ve had regarding entering into a relationship with you,” Castiel continued, ignoring Dean’s interruption.

“Let me make this abundantly clear,” Dean said; his voice low and dangerous. “From the moment I met you, your arrogance and pride, your complete assholishness, made it clear to me that you were the last person on earth I could ever fall in love with.”

Dean hadn’t noticed how close they’d gotten during their fight, advancing into each other’s personal space until they were going toe to toe. Now he was mere inches from Castiel’s face and it made him acutely aware that Castiel’s eyes kept flicking down to his mouth. He seemed to sway closer, like he was seriously contemplating kissing him. That made Dean nervous because pop culture dictated kissing after an argument like this would lead to angry, wall slamming sex.

“Forgive me,” Castiel hissed, snapping Dean out of his horrifying train of thought, “for taking up so much of your time.”

Then Castiel was shoving past him and the front door was slamming shut again, leaving Dean alone in the suddenly oppressively quiet house.

\--

Dean had to force himself out of bed and singlehandedly down an entire pot of coffee the next day before he felt even remotely human. He’d hardly slept the night before and what sleep he’d gotten had been full of strange, twisting dreams that he couldn’t remember but made him feel uneasy upon waking.

There was a small upside to this shitfest. Dean, needing another’s insight, had given Charlie the Cliffnotes version of his conversation with Castiel. They’d made plans to talk later tonight over what had happened while eating a disgusting amount of leftovers and watching _Star Trek_.

Dean started feeling more himself by midday. He was covering the front desk for Sarah, who was taking a lunch break and had promised him a beer in compensation. It was the slow part of the day, and the front desk was a nice change of pace from working on the database, but Dean wasn’t completely off the hook. He’d brought his laptop with him so he could type up the information for the items he and Inias had photographed the other day. So long as he didn’t have his speakers up too loud, he could even play some Zeppelin while he worked.

He was double checking the year Rosings acquired an 18th century painting of the estate when he felt that gut churning certainty that he was being watched and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He turned to see who was being a creeper and almost jumped out of his seat.

“Jesus, Cas. Remind me to put a bell on you.”

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Castiel said, looking ashamed that he had. “I wanted to give you this before I left,” he added, placing an envelope on the desk beside Dean’s hand. “Sometimes, I find it easier to organize my thoughts on paper.”

He didn’t wait for Dean to say anything, nor did he say goodbye, he just turned around and left as quickly as he’d come.

Dean tried to ignore the envelope sitting next to him. He needed to get the descriptions typed up or he’d be chained to the computer all night instead of talking things through with Charlie and trying to relax. The more he tried to ignore the envelope, the more it seemed to mock him by its mere presence.

“Fucking fine,” Dean grumbled.

The envelope was made of thick, heavy parchment. The front only had Dean’s name on it, perfectly centered and written in cursive. The back was closed with a wax seal stamped with the Milton family coat of arms.

Dean laughed helplessly. “Hogwarts letter’s a little late, but I’m not gonna argue.”

He pulled out the neatly folded paper inside. The letter was front to back. The cursive writing scrawled across the page small and cramped. Littered with crossed out places where Castiel had made revisions from correcting misspelled words to obvious struggles with his phrasing and legibility.

_Dean,_

_Don’t worry. This is not a love letter or an attempt to win your affection. I only wanted to address the two accusations you laid against me last night, in particular those relating to Michael. I would, however, like to apologize for the discomfort I caused you last night by making my feelings known. I assure you, that wasn’t my intention._

_My father loved Michael like a second son. He wanted for nothing during my father’s life and was written into his will, where he was promised a substantial living. After my father passed, Michael told me he no longer wanted to be a teacher and demanded all the money that had been left to him. He claimed he wanted to go into medicine instead. As he’d spent all the years of our friendship talking about pursuing a career in education, never once showing any interest in the medical profession, I began to doubt his character._

_These doubts were confirmed when I discovered he wasn’t studying any subject, nor enrolled at any college or university._

_Michael ran through his inheritance. To my understanding, he lost most of it through gambling. His bank account not only dry but overdrawn, he wrote to me asking for more money. I refused. I believe understandably so. He immediately severed all communication between us._

_Not too long ago, Michael’s path crossed mine again in circumstances I would rather forget and I beg you, one elder brother to another, to please keep this part to yourself._

_He seduced my sister, hoping to get his hands on the money my father had left her. I discovered their relationship by accident and tried to expose his true intentions. Anna didn’t believe him capable of what I accused him of. I gave him the choice of either my sister or a bribe to leave us in peace. He chose the latter and once again vanished. I cannot begin to convey the depth of Anna’s despair._

_I’m aware that I’ve done nothing to earn your trust on this matter. Inias can corroborate my story if you wish to ask him._

_As for your brother and Jessica, I see now that my choices – whose motives you found insufficient – may have been in error. You must understand that my actions were in the service of a beloved friend and I only had Jessica’s best interests at heart. I’m sure you would’ve done the same had the situation been reversed._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Castiel Novak_

“Dean?”

This time Dean _did_ jump from his chair, a small shriek of fear that he would deny to his death bed escaping his lips. He hastily shoved the letter back into its envelope, though he knew Charlie would inevitably know its contents at some point.

“You all right?” Charlie asked. There was a hesitant grin on her face that was a further blow to Dean’s dignity. He opened his mouth for a retort, but as the contents of the letter started to sink in, he came up empty handed.

\--

Dean’s internship ended in December. Rosings was closing for two weeks so the various work crews would have ample time to do their restorations and repairs to the mansion and grounds without interfering with the running of the estate. It also meant employees had plenty of time to spend the holidays with their families and Charlie hitched a ride home with him.

They swung by the airport to pick up Sam. Dean would swear on a stack of Bibles that Sam had grown even taller since moving to Chicago, but that might’ve been because he hadn’t seen his little brother in months and had forgotten how much of a giant Sam was. Charlie’s feet dangled three feet off the ground when she received one of Sam’s patented bone-crushing hugs.

Despite everyone keeping in touch with everyone else through emails, texts, phone calls, and Skype, there was a lingering sense that major informational gaps needed filling and the drive home was nonstop talking.

Eventually, Jessica was brought up.

“I’m over her, Dean,” Sam said. “If we passed each other on the street, I wouldn’t notice.”

No matter how much Dean wanted to believe that was true, one glance over at Sam’s face showed a sadness he couldn’t quite hide. He wondered if they _had_ passed each other at some point, if maybe Jessica hadn’t noticed or recognized him, but that was ridiculous. Sam was impossible not to notice and impossible not to recognize once met. Sam quickly changed the topic, asking Charlie about what she’d been up to with such false perkiness that Dean saw her wince in the rearview mirror.

They dropped off Charlie at her parents’ house and Dean helped with her luggage.

“Yes, because I’m _not_ going to be at your house every single day,” Charlie muttered sarcastically against Dean’s chest when he’d pulled her into a hug. “And you’re _not_ gonna drive me to the airport when I have to go back to the salt mines.”

“Shut up and take the damn hug.”

Dinner that night was surprisingly quiet. Mary, sympathetic to her sons’ mutual exhaustion, didn’t pester them with a lot of questions. Instead, she told them about the goings on of both the family and neighborhood while they’d been away. John muttered a fond “Glad you boys are back”, and then spent the dinner mostly silent. Occasionally throwing amused glances down the table at Dean

Mary had aired out the attic in preparation of their homecoming and put fresh sheets and their grandmother’s soft, handmade quilts on the beds. Someone had hauled out the space heater and it chugged away, getting the room nice and warm.

As they were getting ready for bed, Dean blurted out, “Cas was at Rosings.”

“Yeah?” Sam asked, his voice somewhat guarded.

“Yeah. He uh…” but Dean couldn’t bring himself to tell Sam about Castiel’s declaration of love. Not just yet, anyway. And he’d decided long ago to make sure Sam never learned about Castiel’s involvement in Jessica leaving. So he went with the third option. “I was wrong about Michael.”

“What do you mean?”

Dean had read Castiel’s letter so many times, he had it memorized. By the time he was done – carefully omitting the parts about Castiel’s sister – Sam was attracting flies with his gaping mouth.

“Say something, man,” Dean said.

“Maybe there was a misunderstanding.”

Dean erupted with laughter. “They can’t both be right, Sammy. I’m much more willing to believe Cas now that I’ve heard what he had to say. I tried to get in touch with Michael several times since then, but he never responded.”

Sam gave him a sympathetic look. “Well he’s out of our lives now. So no harm done.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, trying to ignore the way his voice shook.

They were lying in the dark, listening to the steady hum of the space heater by the time Sam asked the question Dean had been dreading since he mentioned Castiel in the first place.

“Did he say anything about Jess?”

The lie rolled off his tongue before he knew he’d opened his mouth. “No, he didn’t.”

\--

The holidays were shockingly uneventfully, with the exception of the long conversations Sam and Dean wound up having about his fight with Castiel. Sam was a smug bastard about the whole thing, declaring he’d thought all along that Castiel had the hots for Dean. But then Sam had to go back to Chicago and Charlie back to Rosings, and Dean was left to continue mulling over everything that had happened by himself.

He felt, for the first time in his life, that he barely knew himself.

Inias had confirmed every detail of Castiel’s version of events and provided him with some hard evidence. It had shed new light on Michael and Dean could see now how terrible Michael’s behavior had been throughout their brief relationship. Dean might’ve asked for further information regarding Michael’s past, but he’d given the information away far too easily. He’d dropped Dean like a hot potato almost the second the fall semester had started and never returned Dean’s numerous attempts to contact him. His silence spoke volumes. Castiel was a bit of a dick, but at least he didn’t spread malicious rumors about people. Completely unfounded rumors, to boot.

There was the other matter of Castiel’s involvement in breaking up Sam and Jessica. The more Dean read the letter and thought about everything Castiel had said during their fight, the more truth he found in Castiel’s words. Castiel had been right about Sam showing a lack of interest in Jessica. He remembered how Charlie had called his attention to Sam’s aloofness early on and he’d ignored her warning. Looking back on all their encounters and viewing them as an outsider instead of as Sam’s brother, he finally noticed how right they’d both been.

He couldn’t believe how wrong he’d been about Castiel. He’d been prejudiced against him from day one. Sam had pointed it out so many times – how his willingness to believe Michael’s story would give him an actual reason to dislike Castiel, how he’d called him a rich snob before they’d even met – and he’d always laughed it off.

He wondered if their paths would ever cross again. It seemed highly doubtful, but he promised himself that, if they did, he would go much easier on Castiel.

Dean kept busy. He retook the campus library position he hadn’t been able to last semester because of his internship and dove headfirst back into his graduate school plans, sending out applications whenever he could afford to. He was happy for the work, but he couldn’t stop feeling a little depressed about his current situation in life. Especially after seeing how happy Charlie and Sam were at their jobs.

He received rejection letters from most, and wound up bombing the candidate interview when a place showed an interested in him. He found some consolation in the knowledge that the program had a bad reputation when it came to financial aid. Even then, after so many defeats, Sam and Charlie had to talk him into trying again. He had enough money set aside, and there was one place he’d always dreamed about but realistically knew that he’d never manage financially – if he got in at all. Then again, he had nothing left to lose by trying.

It took Dean to the end of February to finally work up the courage to mail his application to Pemberly University.

\--

He was rudely awoken by a tumultuous racket downstairs. He stumped into the kitchen in a haze of bleary irritation.

“Wuzgoin’ on?” He murmured thickly, digging out the sleep crusted in the corners of his eyes as Adam did another victory lap around the house, his excited whoops too loud for this early in the morning.

“Adam’s been invited to Vegas for spring break,” Mary said, passing Dean a mug of coffee.

“How’ll we swing that?”

“ _We_ won’t do anything. Adam’s worked it out.”

Dean highly doubted that. If the college allowed it, Adam would major in Undeclared.

“Where’s Dad?”

John was in the garage, trying to find something wrong with the Impala to tinker with. Everyone knew Dean kept the car in pristine condition, so it was an exercise in futility.

“You can’t let Adam go,” Dean said bluntly, unable to suppress the smirk that crossed his face when John banged his head on the hood of the car in his haste to get out from under it.

“Adam won’t shut up unless he does.”

A strange fury bubbled inside him that he couldn’t keep down. “Is that really all you care about? Peace and quiet?”

John waved a dismissive hand through the air, massaging the back of his head with the other. “There’ll be chaperones to keep Adam from getting into too much trouble. I understand your concerns, Dean-o. I really do. But Adam won’t be satisfied until he’s exposed himself in some way or other. I’m letting him get it out of his system where he can’t embarrass the family.”

Dean wanted to yell that Adam had already embarrassed the family, but he knew John’s words were final. He stormed off, slamming the door behind him as he went.

\--

Pemberly’s acceptance letter and invitation to a campus interview arrived in mid-March, coinciding with Bobby and Ellen’s annual visit, on their return leg of their anniversary road trip.

“Why don’t you come with us?” Ellen asked.

Dean looked up from the pan he was scrubbing. Warm, sudsy water ran down his arms and streaks of bubbles clung to his skin as he tried to determine if she was kidding or not. “It’s still you and Bobby’s anniversary. I don’t wanna be a third wheel to that.”

“It’s being practical.” She gestured to the acceptance letter in her hand. “You have to interview at Pemberly to get into their program, right? St. Louis is on the way back to Chicago. We’d be happy to take you along.”

Bobby stood in the doorway, arms folded and a smirk playing at his mouth. “Coming with us would save you a lot of money in the long run. Otherwise, you’d have to deal with gas, food, and hotel expenses.”

Dean rinsed the pan and grabbed another to buy some time to think. He’d gotten nowhere in convincing John and Mary to change their minds about letting Adam go to Vegas. He’d wound up being the one to drive him to the airport and see him off. The offer was really too good to refuse. Besides, he’d have to make the drive eventually.

One look at his aunt and uncle told him they already knew his answer.

\--

Dean always seemed to forget how much he hated being cooped up in one place for too long until he was on the road. He had loved road tripping to Stanford to pick up Sam for summer vacations. He still sometimes just drove in whatever direction he pleased when he had time and an itching to see something other than the same 35 square miles of Lawrence’s city limits.

Halfway to St. Louis, Dean got a text from Inias.

_Heard you were interviewing @ Pemberly. Walking into the lion’s den?_

Dean sent an appropriately confused text back, not understanding the message at all. A reply came seconds later and he immediately felt like he was going to throw up.

_Didn’t you know? The Novak’s founded Pemberly. You’re practically in Castiel’s backyard._

“Shit,” Dean breathed. Bobby and Ellen threw him concerned glances.

“Everything all right?”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s just, you’d think with all the research I did, I’d know Cas basically owns the place. His name wasn’t anywhere on the website.”

Both Sam and Dean had tried to keep their aunt and uncle up to date on what was going on, since they excelled at parental advice. While Dean hadn’t fully explained what had transpired at Rosings, Bobby and Ellen were still well versed in who Castiel was.

“Do you _really_ want to turn back now?” Ellen asked, and Dean knew he was expected to nut up or shut up. He shook his head and tried to hide how much he jumped at the next text.

It was like Inias could read his mind.

_Don’t worry about running into him. He should be out of town doing a guest lecture._

The message was enough to put Dean at ease for the next couple hours and his interview.

By the time he’d changed out of his constrictive suit for his campus tour, the worry was creeping back in. He sat in the student center in one of the ludicrously comfortable chairs, idly watching some students climbing the indoor rock wall. His heart skipped a beat and trapped him in fight or flight mode every time he saw someone who looked even remotely like Castiel. He had to keep reminding himself that he wasn’t trespassing. He’d been invited here and, depending on how well the interview had gone, he’d be a student soon enough.

He didn’t notice the girl coming up to him until she spoke.

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” she said, tucking some vibrantly red hair behind her ear. Her hair reminded him of Charlie and he felt a small pang of homesickness. “Spring break starts tomorrow, so everyone’s antsy to get out of here. Tessa was supposed to show you around, but her last class got cancelled and…” She coughed nervously. “Wow, babbling. Sorry. I’m Anna. I’ll be showing you around Pemberly today.”

Dean smiled his most reassuring smile and shook her hand. “I’m Dean.”

Anna smiled back. “I know,” she said. “Shall we?”

The campus was gorgeous. Dean had already figured that out from what he’d seen while going to and from his interview. It was rather small, though it didn’t feel like it. There was a large quad and rooftop gardens open to students for more green space. The interiors were bright and open, lit more by natural light than harsh fluorescents. Class sizes were small, offering students more one on one time with professors.

They ate a late, delicious lunch in the cafeteria and Anna outlined the plan for the rest of the day – specifically, letting Dean sit in on a class.

“Most of the graduate classes have already met today. Those that haven’t aren’t until much later and I know you probably don’t want to hang around that long. So, it’s gonna have to be undergrad. Teaching undergrad students is part of the graduate program so this’ll be good experience.”

The literature class they wound up going to was in one of the old lecture halls and had already started.

“We don’t typically use the amphitheater style rooms anymore,” Anna said in a low voice as she opened the door as surreptitiously as possible. She kept her hand on the doorknob as they snuck inside to ensure the door closed just as softly as it opened. “Professor Shurley’s a bit old school.”

Castiel sat on the desk at the front of the room, leading a rousing discussion. He looked utterly carefree – stripped of his usual suit jacket and with his shirtsleeves rolled up. There was an easy smile on his face as he waved a hand to silence some louder members of the class and said, “Let her speak. She’s making a point.” He gestured to the girl who’d been interrupted, “Go ahead.”

At that moment, Anna’s hand slipped and the door closed behind them with a bang that silenced the class. Castiel turned to see who had stolen his students’ attention.

“Can I help you w– Dean?” He started to slide of the desk as he spoke. “Uh… Tamara, you were making a good point and I’ll touch on that in a second. I probably can’t trust you guys to keep the noise level down, but just… give me a minute?”

Dean finally came to his senses and bolted as soon as Castiel slid off the desk. He knew running was childish and he’d be kicking himself later when this moment played on an endless loop in his head, but he couldn’t stop himself.

He heard the door open behind him and Castiel call his name, his voice bouncing down the empty hall. Dean slowed to a stop and, face burning with embarrassment, turned.

Castiel’s footsteps echoed loudly as he walked toward him. Dean’s brain blipped weirdly to Rachel’s introduction in _Blade Runner_. How her footsteps had echoed liked Castiel’s, who had come to a stop on the edge of Dean’s personal space.

“Inias said you were out of town doing a guest lecture,” Dean said in a rush.

“No,” Castiel said sharply. He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment and said more softly, “ _This_ is the guest lecture.”

“Oh.” _Well done, Dean-o, you’re really making an impression now._ Dean cleared his throat. “I was just here for my interview and to tour the campus.”

“I didn’t know you’d applied,” Castiel said, looking surprised. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Dean said dumbly.

“Are you here by yourself or is Sam with you?”

“Oh no,” Dean stuttered, “my aunt and uncle, actually. They were headed back to Chicago and gave me a lift.”

“And your family’s okay?”

“Yeah, they’re all great. Adam’s on break right now so it’s really quiet.”

Castiel huffed a small laugh. “Don’t mention break around my students. They’re climbing the walls as is.”

“Speaking of students, I should really let you get back to your class,” Dean said.

Castiel’s eyes widened comically. “ _Shit_ , my class. Are you not sitting in anymore? I know it’s English, but–”

“No. It’d be awkward now that I’ve run.”

“It wouldn’t be awkward,” Castiel said quickly. “But I understand. A guest lecture isn’t the same as a real class. I should – you’re right – I should go. Teach.” He paused, looking like he was trying to get his thoughts into some semblance of order, then smiled and shook his hand. “It was good seeing you, Dean.”

“You too, Cas,” Dean said.

Castiel started walking back to the classroom as Anna stepped into the hall to look for him. “I’m coming,” he called in exasperation. The door closed on the round of apologies he was offering his students.

Dean wiped his hand Cas on his jeans, trying to rid himself of the lingering sensation of Castiel’s touch as Anna joined him.

“Sorry. I didn’t know Castiel was lecturing.”

“You call him by his first name?”

“Almost everyone does,” Anna said with a shrug. “Cas hates being called ‘Professor Novak’.”

Dean raised his eyebrows at Anna shortening Castiel’s name, but let it slide. Anna wouldn’t have said it if Castiel hadn’t allowed it. It made him curious about Castiel’s reputation around campus, though. When he asked, Anna smiled.

“I think just about everyone loves him. He treats everybody like family and he wants everyone to do well and graduate on time. He’s even helped a couple students who were having financial trouble. Getting them in touch with scholarship opportunities or buying their meal plan. Stuff he can get away with without the president or the board getting their panties in a twist. Obviously, he’s not all niceness. You should’ve seen the last person he caught plagiarizing. It’s pretty hard to get on his bad side, but you don’t _ever_ want to be there.”

“I know,” Dean muttered. His hand still felt weirdly tingly from the handshake.

\--

After sitting in on a Castiel-free class and giving his thanks and goodbyes to Anna, Dean walked through the student center in search of Bobby and Ellen. He was stopped by a familiar voice saying his name from the stairs.

“Jessica,” Dean said, a surprised smile spreading across his face. “What are you doing here?”

“Visiting Castiel,” Jess said, looking just as stunned to see Dean as he was to see her. “I was about to leave, actually. Um… hang on.” She turned and raced down the stairs. Her hand skimmed along the banister in case she tripped; a very real possibility. Dean was reminded of how perfect she and Sam were for each other, they were both absolute klutzes. “How’s everyone back home?”

“They’re great.”

“And Sam?”

“He’s fine,” Dean said, filing away the fact that she’d asked about Sam specifically and separately for later.

“I was wondering if he–”

“Jess,” Dean cut in gently. “If you want to know anything about Sam, you should call him. His number hasn’t changed and I know he’d be happy to hear from you firsthand.”

Jessica bit her lip, eyes suddenly transfixed on the floor. “Yeah,” she said quietly, nodding her head in agreement. “Yeah, maybe I will.” She looked up and smiled at him. “Well, I should be going. It was nice seeing you again, Dean.”

Dean returned her smile before she turned away and set off in the opposite direction. “You too, Jess.”

Still thinking about his surprise encounter with Jessica Moore: Former Future Sister-In-Law, Dean found his aunt and uncle on the quad, people-watching in the late afternoon sun. He heard his name being called again while they were making dinner plans and looked around in confusion, wondering if Jessica had followed him. Castiel was walking across the lawn, looking like a stereotypical absent-minded professor with his suit jacket slung over his arm, his tie loosened, and his vest undone.

“I wanted to apologize for the abruptness of my departure.”

“You’ve been apologizing to me too much recently,” Dean said. “It’s fine, Cas.” At Castiel’s expectant look at Bobby and Ellen he added, “Oh, yeah, sorry. Bobby, Ellen, this is Castiel Novak. Cas, this is my aunt and uncle.”

“It’s always a pleasure to meet a member of Dean’s family,” Castiel said, shaking hands with them. “Have you enjoyed Pemberly?”

“It’s beautiful,” Ellen said. Bobby hummed in agreement.

“I was wondering if you would care to join me and my sister for lunch tomorrow,” Castiel said. “If that’s not too much trouble, of course,” he added to Bobby and Ellen. “Dean told me you were on your way back to Chicago. If staying an extra day would inconvenience you, I understand.”

“It’s fine,” Bobby said. “We weren’t planning on leaving town just yet.”

Castiel’s face brightened immensely. “Excellent.” He fished out a pad of paper and a pen from his satchel. “Here’s… my… address…” he said slowly, concentrating on what he was writing. “I also included my phone number just in case. I don’t believe we ever exchanged our contact information.” He tore off the page and thrust it in Dean’s direction, suddenly looking very shy.

Dean took it with a small laugh. “No, I don’t think we ever did,” he conceded.

“So, my place at around one o’clock tomorrow?”

Dean folded and unfolded the paper to give his hands something to do. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

Castiel smiled that small smile Dean had only seen once or twice in their entire acquaintance. Then he said his goodbyes and headed off toward the English building.

“Hate to break it to you, son,” Bobby said gruffly as they watched Castiel walk away. “That man is _nothing_ like the guy you told us about.”

Dean nodded stupidly, glancing down at the paper in his hands. He’d already folded it back and forth so many times it was about to fall apart. “I’m as surprised as you. We didn’t part company on the best of terms last time. I can’t imagine why he’s being so nice.”

“Can’t you?” Ellen asked; her smile too all knowing and mischievous for Dean’s liking.

\--

They knocked on the door to Castiel’s house the next day and Anna answered the door.

“Hey, come in,” she said, stepping back and holding the door wide open.

“Wait, _you’re_ Cas’ sister?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” Anna said with a small laugh, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “I thought you knew that.”

“Nope,” Dean said, the ‘p’ popping loudly on his lips. “Never crossed my mind.”

“I’m sorry about Castiel not coming to greet you. He’s in the kitchen. Losing track of time while grading papers and cooking. To be honest, I don’t think he even heard you knock.”

Dean smiled, ducking his head slightly as they moved further inside. Castiel’s home was smaller than the other houses Dean had come to associate with him. It looked like a cottage in comparison to Rosings, but so would Versailles. It actually reminded Dean of Netherfield, or how the house would’ve looked if Jessica and Meg had lived there longer. Just the outside of Castiel’s house looked well loved and comfortable.

The interior confirmed his hypothesis. The walls were covered in framed family photos and art prints. Dean found a strange comfort in the amount of clutter he could see as they moved down the hall towards the back of the house. There were bookshelves everywhere, with more books piled haphazardly on the stairs leading to the second floor. Despite the clutter and the crowded walls, there was a pervading sense of openness about the house that immediately put Dean at ease.

The kitchen immediately became Dean’s favorite room. The Winchester kitchen always felt cramped with five people living under one roof, but Castiel’s was just as open and inviting as the rest of the house, with huge windows overlooking a sprawling backyard. Completing the picture was Castiel, sitting on a barstool and grading the papers scattered across one of the countertops.

Dean had never seen Castiel looking so casual. He looked about ten years younger out of the suit and tie. He’d traded them for a soft looking, well-worn Pemberly University t-shirt, dark jeans and socks, but he still wore a vest. Dean supposed Castiel couldn’t be expected to get through a company filled afternoon without at least _some_ of his usual armor.

“It’s official,” he said at the sound of their approach, not looking up from his work. “If I have to read one more essay, I’m going to scream.” He scribbled some notes at the bottom of the page and circled the grade with a flourish before throwing down his pen and leaning back with a small groan, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. Anna cleared her throat significantly and Castiel started when he saw their guests, his face breaking into a smile. “Hello, Dean. Mr. and Mrs. Singer.”

He ran his fingers through his hair which was in the same wild disarray that it’d been in during the fight at Rosings. It now sent Dean spiraling into thoughts of bed head and wondering how Cas would look waking up to in the morning.

“I lost track of time grading papers,” Castiel said, needlessly gesturing at the chaos he’d turned the kitchen counter into. “You were right,” he added to Anna. “I’m going to do a complete overhaul of Turner’s classes next semester. If I’m going to be taking over his classes permanently, I don’t know why I should keep teaching his syllabus and using his prompts.”

Anna snorted. “You owe me twenty bucks. I told you you’d crack after one term.”

“You did,” Castiel sighed. His fingers ran through his hair again. “I thought I could handle that much Faulkner.”

“Turner’s obsessed with the guy,” Anna explained.

The egg timer that had been ticking by Castiel’s elbow went off a second later and he got up to pull a pan of potato wedges out of the oven. Anna moved around the counter to pull a bowl of chicken salad and a bowl of fruit from the fridge. Dean felt another pang of homesickness watching her and Castiel move around the kitchen – grabbing things for the other person without being asked, quickly steadying each other with a brief touch to the small of the back. He and Sam could move the same way around their too small kitchen back home, but they almost always wound up bumping into each other.

When everyone’s plates were piled with food, Anna led them down a couple steps into a sunny room. Shelves of potted plants lined the glass walls and there was a table already set in the middle of the room.

“Professor Plum in the conservatory with the wrench?” Dean marveled, taking it all in.

“Something like that,” Castiel said as Anna ventured back into the kitchen for the pitcher of iced tea they’d left behind. “This was our mother’s favorite room. I apologize in advance for the food selection. I’m afraid you’re assisting Anna and me in taking care of leftovers. Hopefully, I finally got the chicken to mayonnaise ratio correct.”

“You made everything?”

Castiel nodded.

“I’m not allowed near the stove since I burn water,” Anna said, sharing a teasing smile with her brother.

“Can I get a recipe for this?” Ellen asked. “My chicken salad’s never sold well.”

“Of course,” Castiel said. “Dean never told me what you and your husband’s occupations were.”

“I run a car garage,” Bobby said, his face flushing with embarrassment when Ellen kicked him under the table for talking with his mouth full. He swallowed before speaking again. “Ellen runs a bar and restaurant.”

“You remember Henricksen’s?” Dean asked. “Ellen gave Victor the capital to start it up. He thought about calling it ‘The Roadhouse’ as well – try to make it a franchise or something – but there was already a place with a similar name.”

“I spent many happy evenings there while I was in Lawrence,” Castiel said with a small smile at Ellen. “Mr. Singer, I was wondering if your business was in any way connected to the garage Dean’s father owns.”

Bobby nodded. “John and I co-owned the place until Ellen and I decided to move up to Chicago. It’s all his now.”

“Well I congratulate you both on your successes,” Castiel said. “Especially in this economy.”

Dean felt Anna’s eyes on him. She turned away when he looked at her, but Dean could still see a grin pulling at the corner of her mouth. Castiel threw her a pointed look, the kind that Dean knew all too well, having given the same look numerous times to family members who seemed like they were about to do something mortifying. Anna briefly stuck her tongue out at him and Castiel’s pointed look intensified.

The conversation turned toward Pemberly – who Dean’s advisor was probably going to be, which classes he should take first, which apartments off campus were the nicest and closest without going over Dean’s budget, and more. At some point Anna, bored of all the shop talk, switched to telling embarrassing stories about Castiel. In turn, Castiel blushed furiously, refuted several details, and retaliated with embarrassing tales of his own, as was his right as elder brother.

Dean couldn’t believe how different Castiel was. Gone was the proud, antisocial man he’d known back in Lawrence. In his place, there was an easy going, friendly guy who was all smiles and charm. Maybe it was because they were meeting on Castiel’s turf and on his terms, but Dean could finally see how Castiel got and kept friends like Jessica.

It was one of the best afternoons in Dean’s recent memory and he should’ve known it was too good to last. This whole trip had been too perfect. Of course his family would find a way to worm in and ruin it.

He’d silenced his phone out of politeness upon entering Castiel’s home, but he checked it when they started to leave. Numerous missed calls and texts from his parents, Sammy, and Charlie. Dean knew from past experience that his family only got Charlie in on the panic as a last resort. Charlie and Sam were the most levelheaded people Dean knew, and each had left him at least twenty texts and had been calling every half hour.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked the second Sam picked up after half a ring.

“Adam didn’t come home.”

“What?” The sharpness of his voice made everyone stop what they were doing and look at him.

“The last time Ed saw him, he was at a poker table with Michael,” Sam said. He sounded mildly panicked, which didn’t help Dean’s calm one bit. Not while his mind was swirling with a million questions and he couldn’t decide which to ask first.

Finally, he settled on, “Michael’s there?” He saw Castiel out of the corner of his eye go completely still at Michael’s name. Anna did as well, and Castiel reached over to give her and a small, reassuring squeeze.

He could tell Sam was nodding his head and barely heard the vocal confirmation over the roaring in his ears. Dean swore a blue streak and Castiel sidled up to him and placed a gentle hand on Dean’s shoulder. The touch made Dean feel more anxious than anything.

“What’s wrong?” Castiel asked; his voice soft and kind. Dean relaxed slightly under Castiel’s hand and finally remembered to breathe.

“Adam went to Vegas for spring break. I knew it was a bad idea, but Dad overruled me. Michael was – _is_ – there and…” Dean trailed off uselessly, the need for answers too pressing. “Isn’t he picking up his phone?” he asked Sam. He was tempted to put his phone on speaker so he wouldn’t have to keep relaying information, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to air out more of his family’s dirty laundry in front of Castiel.

“His phone goes straight to voicemail. Dad called the college and found out Professor Talbot fired Michael _months_ ago for stealing money. According to Ed, Michael had some sob story about losing most of his money. Adam lent him what he had. Then he ran out of money to lend.”

“Are you saying he’s _stuck_ in Vegas?” Dean asked, silently begging Sam to say no.

Sam sighed. “Not exactly? We don’t have a lot of details. Pretty much all we know is that he cancelled his ticket home without telling anyone and he’s not answering his phone. Dad’s already flown out to look for him. It’s just all gone to shit, basically. We need you home. _Now_.”

Dean nodded even though Sam couldn’t see and numbly muttered, “Yeah, yeah, I’m on my way,” before disconnecting. “This is all my fault,” he said to no one in particular.

“No,” Castiel said quickly and soothingly. “You had nothing to do with this. I should’ve exposed Michael when I had the chance.”

“I could’ve told everyone just as easily as you,” Dean pointed out. “No, no, this is all on me. I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to apologize, or who exactly he was apologizing to.

Castiel shook his head said. “If there’s something, _anything_ I can do to help, please, don’t hesitate to ask.”

An hour later, they had all gone their separate ways. Bobby was flying out to meet John in Vegas and help him look for Adam; Ellen was on the road back up to Chicago because, despite the family emergency, Jo couldn’t keep looking after the two businesses by herself; Castiel had driven Dean to a car rental place so he could go back home.

Dean had been itching to get on the road since the call ended, but Castiel had put his hand on Dean’s shoulder again long enough to say, “Dean, this is in no way your fault. Adam is an adult and capable of making his own judgments. Michael is just very good at manipulating people to get what he wants.”

Dean shaved an hour off his travel time by breaking every speed limit and doing some horribly reckless driving. He’d barely turned the car off before jumping out and running up the walkway to barrel into Sam’s welcoming arms for a bone crushing hug.

“We should be out there. We should be helping Bobby and Dad,” Dean said as he pulled away.

Sam shook his head. “Mom’s in a state. Somebody had to stay behind to look after her. And someone has to make sure everything at the garage runs smoothly while Dad’s away.”

\--

Sam wasn’t kidding about Mary. She was working through her stress by cleaning the house from top to bottom, alternately ranting about how stupid Adam was for getting conned by Michael and crying over her youngest child’s fate. Dean and Sam confiscated all the cleaning supplies and got her to channel her energy into doing work for her actual job.

John came home two days later, forced to call off his part of the search to run the garage. They stayed up after Mary had gone off to bed. The conversation mostly consisted of Dean trying to stop John and Sam from blaming themselves for Adam’s behavior, ignoring the voice in the back of his head that reminded him _he’d_ been blaming himself not too long ago.

“No,” John said firmly, taking a sip of the stiff drink he’d made. “I should’ve listened when you asked me not to let Adam go.”

Bobby emailed them early the following evening to say he’d found Adam and was putting him on a plane first thing in the morning. While Bobby said he considered the matter over and done with, John didn’t seem to think so.

“Your brother owed a substantial amount of money,” John confided to Sam and Dean. “So no, I don’t think the matter’s closed.”

Sam and Dean – too curious to leave well enough alone – checked the email for themselves, knowing John had only given them the highlights.

Adam had grossed a debt of ten thousand dollars, and Bobby had paid it off.

“How?” Sam asked. “I know he’s better off than we are, but holy crap.”

Dean, who had been grateful up until now that everything had been dealt with so quickly, was too stunned to speak.

Mary welcomed Adam home with open arms, but Adam just wanted to be left alone. Especially after John laid out the rules he would be following until he graduated. Adam was officially forbidden from going to parties unless accompanied by someone sensible, he had to get a job, obey the new curfew, call in every hour if he went out, prove that he’d done his homework and makeup assignments in a timely manner, was expected to make at least a B average in every class from now on, and any purchases not related to school or food had to go through John or Mary first.

Dean knew he would normally consider the new regime overkill, but then he remembered how much Bobby had paid to get Adam out of trouble and found it difficult to fault John’s behavior. Really, he knew John was punishing himself for his lapse in parenting.

Sam decided to move back home temporarily to help support the family. It meant quitting his job at Jody’s law firm, but Jody – sympathetic to what had happened – promised to try and keep a spot open for him to come back to. Dean started picking up as many shifts as he could at Henricksen’s, the campus library, and the garage. John had recruited both him and Sam into keeping an eye on Adam, which meant Dean was forced to spend the most time at the library, even though John needed extra hands in the garage and the bar paid more plus tips.

Under Sam and Dean’s watchful eyes, Adam’s grades slowly improved. He probably wasn’t going to get the B average John had been hoping for, but at least he was no longer at risk for getting expelled.

\--

Weeks after Adam’s homecoming, Sam finally asked him about his trip to Pemberly.

“It was good,” Dean said with a nonchalant shrug he knew he could get away with in the darkness of their bedroom. “Everything I’d hoped it’d be and more.”

“Dean.”

“It was good,” Dean said defensively. “What do you want me to say? How pretty the campus was? How welcoming the people were?”

“If it was so great then why’ve you been sitting on this?”

Dean heard a flutter of papers in the darkness and he rolled over to turn on his bedside lamp and sit up. “Where did you get that?”

“Dude,” Sam scoffed. “I’ve known all your hiding places since I was _six_. You realize there’s a deadline for your acceptance, right? Because of the financial aid?”

“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t want to go anymore.”

A silence stretched between them the likes of which Dean hadn’t felt since the last time he’d been alone with Castiel. Thinking about being alone with Castiel was not something he wanted to do now or ever again.

“What?” Sam’s voice was quiet and full of disappointment. The idea that Sam was disappointed in him was a dagger to the heart.

“I can’t just fuck off and go to grad school now, can I.”

Sam gave him a long, hard stare. “Yes, you can. You’ve been putting everyone else ahead of you for years. I mean,” He started ticking off with his fingers, “Mom gets laid off and you work to help keep us afloat until she finds a job. You take a semester off to work in the garage after one of Dad’s guys quits and he can’t keep up with the workload. Some of my scholarships dry up, you _give me your savings_ so I can finish undergrad without another loan. And don’t think I don’t know about that savings account you opened in case I didn’t get a full ride to Stanford, or how your loan deferrals are partly so you can help the family. And now this thing with Adam?”

“Says the guy who just quit his amazing job in Chicago.”

Sam sighed. “You’re paid up, Dean. You deserve this.”

“It’s not that simple,” Dean said. “I can’t leave while we’re trying to pay the bills and Bobby back at the same time. Besides, Castiel’s family founded Pemberly. He works on the campus and he was with me when I called you and found out about Adam. He knows all about the shit we’re in.”

“So?”

“So… fuck, I don’t know.” He scraped a hand over his face.

The truth was he seriously doubted Castiel would ever want to talk to him again. Not after this. If their financial inequality had played even the slightest part in Castiel not wanting to enter into a relationship with him and breaking up Sam and Jess, what could he possibly think now? Whatever ground he’d gained at Pemberly had probably crumbled to nothing in Castiel’s eyes when they’d had to rely on others to pay off Adam’s debts.

“I’ve read over this offer several times,” Sam said, bringing Dean back to their conversation. “They’re practically _paying you_ to go. You going won’t be put any stress on our finances. And so what if Castiel’s there?”

“He told me he _loved_ me,” Dean said. “That’s more than a little awkward.”

“Maybe his feelings have changed since you rejected him.”

Dean stayed silent, not knowing how to tell Sam that _his_ feelings for Castiel might’ve changed.

“From where I’m sitting,” Sam said, “the pros outweigh the cons by a landslide.”

“Just… give me another day or two to think about it, okay?”

“Okay,” Sam said. He placed the offer on Dean’s desk. “But, just so you know, I’m not getting you anything for Christmas if you don’t go.”

\--

Charlie called the next day, saying Bobby hadn’t been the one to settle Adam’s debt.

“How can you know?” Dean asked, having retreated to the attic with Sam in tow to put the phone on speaker.

“You really have to ask that?” Charlie asked. “I took a peek at Bobby’s bank accounts. All of them. There’ve been no withdrawals or payments from any of them to the tune of ten thousand dollars. And he didn’t pull a little from each account, either.”

“So, if it wasn’t us and it wasn’t Bobby, who was it?” Sam asked.

“That’s something that’s probably just going to remain a mystery,” Charlie said. “If I had a bigger pool of suspected do-gooders, then maybe I could tell you. But it was between you guys and Bobby and I’m telling you, neither of you did it.”

Sam took the news as confirmation that Dean should stop worrying about grad school and go for it. If Dean had to see that smug look on Sam’s face one more time, he was going to do something very nasty to him. It was a coin toss between shaving his head or pouring itching powder into his boxers.

\--

“If you say ‘I told you so’, you’re walking home,” Dean said as he dropped the envelope into the mailbox.

Sam grinned, but held his hands up in surrender. “I’m not saying anything. But I _did_ pick this up earlier when you mentioned needing to stop by the post office.” He pulled a flimsy, slightly cracked plastic container out of his backpack and placed it on the roof of the car between them. Inside was a slice of pie that had turned into more of a cobbler after its wild ride in Sam’s backpack. “They were out of apple,” he said apologetically, fishing out a plastic fork. “So I hope you’re in a blueberry mood.”

“I hate you sometimes,” Dean said affectionately. He’d been wondering why Sam’s backpack smelled like a bakery. “This doesn’t change the fact that Cas is gonna be there or anything. I’m probably gonna die from awkwardness within the first week.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Sam said, waving a dismissive hand. “You’ll cross that bridge when you get there. In the meantime, toss me the keys because I don’t trust your driving when there’s pie within reach.”

“Seriously hate you sometimes.”

\--

Adam walked over while Dean was shelving library books.

“Hey, you finished with your homework yet?” Dean asked. Part of the routine they’d fallen into.

“Not quite,” Adam said. “Thought I’d take a break. Maybe see if you could come help me with math?”

“Sure,” Dean said, frowning at the books on the shelf in front of him. A Good Samaritan had put the books they’d taken back on the shelf instead of on the return cart like they were supposed to. Dean pulled all the misplaced books off the shelf with a frustrated sigh. Adam was still standing there. “I’ll be over to help you in a minute, dude. I gotta do this first.”

“Can I help?” Adam asked. He picked at the peeling lamination on one of the book covers, looking nervous. Adam hardly ever looked nervous.

“Okay.”

Adam smiled and grabbed a couple books to be shelved further down the aisle. “You left your phone at the front desk.”

“I did?” He patted down his pockets.

Adam pulled out the phone and handed it back. “You got a text from someone.”

Dean swiped his thumb over the screen to unlock it. There was a new text from Inias.

“You’ve been asking around,” Adam said. “Trying to find out who did it.”

“You say that like you think Uncle Bobby didn’t do it,” Dean hedged.

“That’s because he didn’t,” Adam said, giving Dean his patented little brother ‘I can’t believe I’m related to you’ look. “It was Cas.”

“What?” The outburst earned him a shushing from one of the nearby patrons, but surely he’d heard Adam wrong. “Cas? As in Castiel Novak?”

“Yeah,” Adam said slowly, like Dean was some kind of simpleton. “He came to Vegas with Bobby, but Dad never saw him. He was the one who found us and paid off everything. He told Michael to never come near our family or anyone we know ever again.”

Dean was still trying to make sense of the words spilling out of Adam’s mouth. “What?”

Adam nodded. “Cas isn’t the guy we thought he was. Neither was Michael for that matter. But Cas…” He trailed off, cleared his throat and said, “He made me and Bobby promise not to tell. He doesn’t want to be paid back or anything either. That’s why Bobby’s been sending back Dad’s checks.”

“Why doesn’t Cas…?”

Adam shrugged. “He just doesn’t. I guess he thinks it’s his fault and he wanted to make everything right again.”

“But that’s ridiculous,” Dean said. “I knew about Michael. I should’ve said something, or done a better job convincing Dad not to let you go.”

Adam shook his head, a wry smile marring his features. “We both know I wouldn’t’ve listened to you or Dad or anyone. Besides, none of us knew Michael was going to be there.”

“Well thanks for telling me,” Dean said, at a loss for anything better to say.

“Yeah, sure thing.”

Adam turned to go back to the desk he usually commandeered for doing his homework, but Dean stopped him.

“Really, Adam, thank you.” Dean pulled him in for a hug, something he hadn’t done for a long time. Too long obviously, since it took Adam a couple seconds to realize the sincerity behind the gesture and return it. “I’m sorry for everything that happened,” Dean added, squeezing him a little tighter.

“Yeah,” Adam repeated. He laughed brokenly and pulled back, swiping at his too bright eyes. “Fuck me; was he a douche or what?”

Dean chuckled softly and complied with Adam’s silent wish for him to ignore his tearing up. “Go take another stab at your homework while I finish up. I’ll come see if I can make any sense of it in a minute.”

_Why Castiel would do something like that?_ Dean wondered. Even for someone as well off as he was, ten thousand dollars was a lot of money. Especially when erasing the debt of a relative stranger. Dean called Bobby to see if Adam was telling the truth, hoping on some level that Adam wasn’t, but Bobby verified Adam’s story.

\--

As they made another pass by the coffee aisle – Sam insisting they needed some more and Dean arguing that there were a couple pounds stashed in the freezer and, if he was wrong, the coupon wouldn’t expire for another week – they heard someone say their names.

“Hey, Mrs. Moseley.”

She was slightly out of breath. Possibly out of excitement for what she was surely about to tell them or, Dean thought, maybe she’d run to meet them. “Boys, have you heard the news?”

“No?” Sam ventured cautiously, throwing a confused glance at Dean.

Missouri looked overjoyed at being the first to tell them. “Jessica Moore is back in Lawrence.”

Sam went still beside him and Dean reached over to touch his wrist, which was thankfully out of sight from Missouri. He didn’t want to add fuel to the fire by having Sam do something ridiculous like swoon in the middle of the grocery store.

“Do you mean she’s _coming_ back or she _is_ back?” Dean asked.

“I saw her getting some boxes out of her car. I asked, and her sister hasn’t come back with her.”

Sam spoke with a surprisingly steady voice. “Thanks, Missouri, but you know Dean and I aren’t all that interested in the neighborhood gossip.” He jerked his head towards the checkout lanes. “C’mon, we got everything on the list.”

Dean followed, throwing a hasty excuse over his shoulder to cover for their rudeness.

“Sammy, slow down,” Dean said, snagging Sam’s elbow.

“I’m fine, Dean. I just hate how the grapevine is going to spin this.” Sam sighed. “I’m glad she’s by herself this time. Maybe we won’t see her as much.”

He flashed Dean a brave smile, but Dean wasn’t convinced.

\--

Adam ran into the kitchen looking flushed with excitement while they were putting away the groceries.

“Jessica’s walking up the driveway,” he said. “With Cas.”

Dean felt like the world had dropped out from under him. Sam shot him a concerned look, but he waved it off and gestured toward the hall as Mary called for them.

“Jessica, Mr. Novak, how wonderful it is to see you again,” Mary said as she opened the door. “Please, come in. There’ve been several changes since you left. Charlie moved to Kentucky for a job. Dean’s been accepted to graduate school in St. Louis–”

Dean cleared his throat loudly, wanting to put an end to Mary’s well-meaning rant before she could say something incriminating. It did the trick and Dean was suddenly the center of everyone’s attention. Jessica looked relieved that the focus had shifted.

“How long are you here for?” he asked rather pathetically.

“A month?” Jessica said. “Maybe a little longer?” She looked at Castiel as if in confirmation before adding, “I’m kind of playing it by ear at the moment.”

“And you, Cas?” He hoped he sounded as neutral as he intended.

“I’m driving back home tonight,” Castiel said.

“Oh.” So much for neutrality.

“We should be going,” Jessica said suddenly, grabbing Castiel’s trench coat and tugging him towards the door. “It was good seeing you again, Sam.”

“You too,” Sam croaked. He coughed in embarrassment and gave her a shy smile.

Jessica evaded all Mary’s dinner invitations on her way out, leaving Sam looking slightly shell shocked as the door clicked shut.

Once Mary had gone over to Missouri’s to tell her about Jessica’s visit and Adam had gone to Kevin’s house for study group, the house was empty. Dean and Sam could finally talk without leaving the house or going to the privacy of their room.

“I’m glad that’s over with,” Sam said, taking the beer Dean handed him. “Now we can start over as friends.

“Yes, of course,” Dean said. He swigged some beer to hide his grin.

“What’s with the sarcasm?” Sam asked.

“I just think you’re in danger of making her fall even harder for you.”

Sam snorted and ducked his head as a furious blush crept up his neck. “I’m sorry she brought Castiel along. Even if he’s only here for the day.”

Dean shook his head. A lump rose in his throat before he even thought about opening his mouth to speak. He cleared his throat, but his voice still came out hoarse. “Don’t be.”

Sam’s brows drew together in confusion. “Why?”

Dean shook his head again. A self-deprecating laugh bubbled up from nowhere as all the thoughts he’d been having about his past prejudice towards Castiel came flooding back. “Sammy, I’ve been such an idiot.”

“What do you mean?”

But Dean didn’t know where to begin.

\--

The screen door banged shut behind Mary and she frantically waved at them to come inside from the front porch when they pulled into the driveway from a belated Henricksen’s trip.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked automatically.

Mary didn’t answer. She rushed over and started fussing with Sam’s clothes and hair.

“Mom,” Sam whined, trying to get away. Mary ignored him and licked her thumb to rub some nonexistent dirt from Sam’s cheek.

“You’re needed in the living room,” Mary said hurriedly. She fixed her eyes on Dean, “And I need your help in the kitchen.”

“Okay?”

Mary grabbed them and dragged them inside. She let go of Sam as they neared the living room and tried to drag Dean into the kitchen, but he stopped at the sound of Sam’s voice.

“Jess?”

“Hi.” She smiled shyly and tucked some hair back behind her ear. “Hi, Dean,” she added, waving over Sam’s shoulder.

“I was just telling Dean that I needed his help in the kitchen with something,” Mary said with another none too gentle tug. Dean felt like he was two seconds away from getting his shoulder dislocated.

“It was nice seeing you again, Jess,” he blurted before he let himself get pulled down the hall. “So what did you need my–“

“ _Shhh_ ,” Mary hissed. She nudged the swinging door open carefully so it wouldn’t squeak and propped it open with the painted brick they used as a doorstop. “I didn’t want you being a third wheel.”

“Oh my god, Mom,” Dean groaned. “Those two are the most awkward turtles to ever exist. If anything, my presence would _help_.”

“Shush. I can’t hear what they’re saying.”

“She won’t even let me mow the backyard,” Adam complained from where he was sitting on the countertop. He hopped down to stand by Mary in the doorway.

Dean rolled his eyes. “You’re the worst,” he said, pressing a fond kiss to the top of Mary’s head and trying to be as nonchalant as possible as he joined them in eavesdropping.

\--

“She didn’t even know I was in Chicago,” Sam said, interrupting Dean from his book for the fifth time in the past ten minutes. Dean couldn’t even pretend to be annoyed, not when Sam’s grin was trying to split his face in half. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his brother so happy.

“Impossible,” he said. “Surely the tabloids were in an uproar. ‘Bigfoot spotted in greater Chicago area!’”

Sam threw his pillow at him, but it was done more for the sake of tradition than actual irritation.

“She thought I didn’t like her,” Sam added, his voice more sober as he picked at a loose thread on his quilt. “Partly my own fault,” he admitted. “But I’m sure Meg lent more than a helping hand.”

“I don’t know if I’m happy you finally said something mean about a person, or if I’m sad that _that’s_ the worst you could come up with,” Dean said. “So… she propose yet?”

“A lot’s happened since she left, Dean. And we’ve both changed. But, since I’m sticking around for longer than I’d initially planned, and Jess is here for the foreseeable future, we’ve decided to take things one step at a time. See where that takes us.”

“Ah. So, when I walked in on you two, that was a ‘take it slow and see where it takes us’ kiss.”

“It was,” Sam said, even as an embarrassed flush started creeping up his neck. “Completely chaste. Totally platonic.”

Dean smirked, but held his hands up in surrender when Sam cast around for something to throw at him.

Sam’s face turned sad again. “I wish I could see you as happy as I am right now.”

Dean laughed. “You got designs on playing matchmaker or something?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, smirking. “And I was gonna start by asking Garth if he knew anyone.”

\--

The whole house was awoken later that night by someone pounding on the door.

“Waz happ’nin’?” Adam asked, rubbing sleepily at his eyes as Sam and Dean passed.

“Nothing. Go back to bed,” Sam said quietly.

“We got this, Mom,” Dean said when they joined their parents downstairs. He gently moved Mary behind him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam motioning John out of the way with a murmur of, “Go back to bed, Dad, it’s fine.”

John hesitated momentarily, but nodded and placed a hand on the small of Mary’s back to lead her away. The knocking grew louder and Mary threw her sons a concerned look over her shoulder, but Sam smiled reassuringly and waved her off.

“You think Jessica changed her mind?” Dean asked when they were alone. “Again?”

Sam smacked him on the shoulder. “Just open the door before whoever it is knocks it off its hinges.”

It was Meg.

“The hell?”

“Yeah, I’m not thrilled to see you chuckleheads either,” Meg said. “Dean-o, somewhere we can talk in private?”

Dean had the feeling that any conversation with Meg would go very bad, very fast. He stepped onto the porch and pulled the door closed behind him so Sam couldn’t follow. He hoped that being outdoors would keep them from devolving into a shouting match, but he also just didn’t want Meg in his house.

“What do you want?”

“I came to make sure the stories I’ve heard about you and Castiel aren’t true.”

“And what stories would those be?”

“That you talked him into saving your family from financial ruin after your wild little brother ran off to Vegas.”

“I didn’t talk Cas into anything,” Dean said. “Hell, I didn’t even know what his part in that mess until a few weeks ago.”

“Bullshit. You’ve got him wrapped around your little finger and you know it. You _somehow_ got into Pemberly and then – for no reason at all – he goes out of his way to help when you and your parents couldn’t keep the brat on a tight enough leash. And don’t get me started on how you and Sasquatch in there have ruined my sister’s chances of meeting someone respectable. She’s hell bent on becoming a laughingstock by associating with him.”

“Look,” Dean said through gritted teeth. “You’ve obviously made up your mind to hate me and my family and there’s nothing anyone can do to change that, but let me clarify some things. If Jessica wants to date Sam, that’s her business. Not yours. Not Cas’. _Hers_. And I got into Pemberly on my own. Cas doesn’t have any say on who gets in. I don’t know why he helped us. I’m grateful for what he did, and I’m gonna pay back every cent, but I didn’t talk him into doing jack shit. I get that you want in his pants and have some kinda vendetta against me because I ruined whatever scheme you had going, but you’re not in charge of Cas’ life either. So now that you’re done insulting me and my family, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Some of us have work in the morning.”

Meg looked shocked to have been spoken to like that, so he guessed that meant he’d won.

His victory was short lived and ended once Meg got up in his face. “You don’t deserve him,” she hissed.

“Yeah,” Dean growled. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

She gave him a parting glare before storming off in the direction of Netherfield. Dean wondered if Jessica knew Meg was in town or if she was in for a rude awakening of her own.

“What the hell was that about?” Sam asked, standing up anxiously from his spot on the stairs.

Dean waved a dismissive hand and leaned back against the front door until he heard the latch click. He fumbled behind him for the lock, breathing a sigh of relief at the loud clunk that echoed slightly in the stillness of the house. He somehow felt safer with both a door and a lock between him and Meg.

“Dean?” Sam tried again. “What happened?”

“Just ironing out some misunderstandings.”

“Like what?”

“Nothing, Sam. Just drop it,” Dean snapped. He immediately regretted it. Sam got that kicked puppy look and Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to regain his composure. “Sorry, Sammy. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“Did she say anything about me and Jess?”

“No,” Dean lied wearily. He then thought better of it. “Well yes, but it was some bullshit about why you two couldn’t be together ‘cuz you’re not rich and fancy. Everything else was about me and Cas and I really don’t want to talk about it right now, okay? I’m tired. I just wanna go back to bed.”

“Okay,” Sam said understandingly. “Yeah, sure.”

He stepped to one side, giving Dean ample room to go up the stairs ahead of him.

“And put away your concerned little brother face,” Dean chided. “It’s my job to worry about you, not the other way around.”

“Bullshit,” Sam said with a laugh.

Mary was standing in the doorway to the master bedroom, waiting for them to walk past.

“It was nothing, Mom. Go back to sleep,” Dean said, kissing her softly on the cheek.

“Yeah, Mom. Everything’s fine,” Sam agreed, giving her a kiss as well. “All taken care of.”

Mary smiled softly and cupped their faces. She studied them for a moment, then took their hands and gave them a squeeze. A breathless laugh escaped when she saw how her sons’ hands enveloped hers. With a small nod she let go. “Good night, boys,” she murmured.

Dean looked back as they started up the attic stairs and saw her still standing in the doorway. She smiled again before turning back into the master bedroom, closing the door behind her softly so as not to wake up John.

\--

Whatever confusion he’d been in upon hearing how Castiel had helped Adam increased exponentially after Meg’s late night visit. He texted Inias to see if he knew anything about it – asking if he’d had a hand in the events, or if he had any insight into why Castiel did it. Inias had no light to shed on the matter. Anna had gone strangely quiet as well.

He kept thinking about what Meg had said. She’d spoken like he and Castiel were a couple when they clearly weren’t. And surely Castiel’s feelings for him were gone by now, right? If Castiel had done what he’d done out of some need to prove himself to Dean… That was a thought Dean didn’t want to look too closely at. But then he remembered Meg’s parting words, and knew Castiel probably _had_ done it for him, and that was too much.

He missed Charlie’s guidance more than ever. He missed Sam to a certain extent as well, but he was happy Sam and Jess were getting to spend more time together. They were even making tentative plans to go back to Chicago once summer was over.

He found some distraction in hunting for an apartment in St. Louis, guided by a vague idea of moving early to find a job or take a class or both. But the distraction didn’t work for very long. Castiel was in St. Louis and moving to St. Louis would mean seeing him sooner or later. They hadn’t talked since the awkward encounter accompanying Jessica’s return to Lawrence. Dean would rather wait a while longer before seeing him again. Maybe he’d have his shit together by then.

\--

Charlie, sick of Dean’s whining, showed up on their doorstep the first day of July with a sour look. Her backpack straps clenched in one hand and her _Deep Space Nine_ DVDs in her other.

“Faked a family emergency,” she said, shouldering past him and making a beeline for the living room. “I’ve got a pizza on the way and a six pack in the car.” She caught Dean’s look of disgust at the prospect of drinking warm beer, rolled her eyes, and tossed him her car keys. “The six pack’s replacing the ones we’re gonna drink, stupid. Go put them in the fridge and bring back a couple cold ones while I get the DVD player set up. Jeez.”

Dean was en route to the living room with a couple of cold ones only to have Charlie yell for him to bring three beers instead. His confusion ended at the sight of Sam.

“This is an intervention of some kind,” Dean said, his eyes narrowing suspiciously in the face of Sam’s treachery.

“Maybe I like _DS9_ ,” Sam said. It was such a load of bull Dean didn’t know what to do with himself.

“You two are in cahoots,” Dean pressed.

Charlie made grabby hands at the beers threaded between Dean’s fingers and he begrudgingly handed them over, reserving one for himself.

“It _is_ an intervention,” Charlie confessed.

“About?”

“Why don’t you just call him?” Sam asked. “Cas, I mean.”

Dean must’ve made a face without realizing it because Charlie rolled her eyes again. “You honestly think we haven’t noticed you pining?”

“I’m not pining,” Dean said.

“Yeah, you kinda are,” Sam said.

As if on cue, the pizza arrived and bought Dean a reprieve. Neither Charlie nor Sam said anything about Castiel until Dean was sated with pizza, beer, and _Star Trek_.

“So why don’t you call him?” Charlie asked.

Dean groaned. He should’ve known it was a trap, drawing him into a state of laziness so he wouldn’t want to move when they inevitably brought up the subject again. “I dunno,” he said. “Because I’m not supposed to know about what Cas did and that complicates things?”

“Adam must’ve told you for a reason,” Sam said. “I’ve seen the texts you’ve been sending. I’m pretty sure Cas knows you know by this point.”

“That doesn’t stop it from being the most awkward conversation ever.” He sighed and took a long pull from his third beer of the evening. This conversation called for a light buzz. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“You already rejected him once,” Charlie pointed out. “What’s the worst he can do? Return the favor?”

God, Dean hated it when they teamed up on him.

“Are you guys just gonna badger me all night until I call him?” Dean asked.

“Basically, yeah,” Charlie said. Her eyes remained glued to the television, but a smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth and she took a drink as Dean’s death glare bored into the side of her head.

“Damnit,” he muttered, pulling out his phone. He knew he’d given up too soon, but it was a lost battle anyway. “Oh, shut up,” he added at Sam and Charlie’s shared looks of triumph. “Y’know what? Just for that, I’m only gonna text him.”

Sam grabbed the phone the second Dean hit the send button to make sure he’d actually gone through with it. Charlie read over his shoulder and they both snorted at the message’s contents.

“Who wrote this?”

“Shakespeare,” Sam deadpanned, tossing the phone back to Dean.

“I’m gonna put so much Nair in y’alls shampoo,” Dean grumbled.

“You can’t fault us for making you act like an adult,” Sam said.

Dean supposed he had a point, but damned if he was going to admit it.

\--

Castiel didn’t reply.

Dean resisted the urge to send another text asking if he’d received the first one. He’d give Castiel a day or two before trying again. Maybe this time he’d tack a ‘please respond even if you never want to talk to me again just so I know you got this’ to the end.

He wound up having to send the second text.

It was only after he’d sent the text that he realized it was July third. He would’ve met Castiel, and Sam would’ve met Jess, one year ago tomorrow. A strange anniversary, since Sam and Jess spent most of that year broken up and he and Castiel had never gotten together in the first place. Hell, Dean still wasn’t entirely sure if he and Castiel considered each other friends.

Castiel replied to the text late in the evening.

_I’m in town for the 4 th._

Dean read the text over and over. Six terse words. No apologies for not replying the first time. No real offers to meet up. He supposed Castiel was working on the assumption that he was going to be at the Independence Day celebration, but he reminded himself that he could’ve been projecting his own hopes onto Castiel’s text. Castiel may not want to see him at all and the message was a mere courtesy.

Dean was still analyzing the text long after Sam had gone to sleep. The light of his phone’s screen illuminating his half of their room as he read it for the billionth time, mulling over how he should respond, if at all.

Finally, he set it aside and tried to fall asleep, letting the noise of the fan and Sam’s snoring wash over him. The combination of the two sounds almost always put him right to sleep, but not tonight.

An hour slowly ticked away.

He decided to do something stupid.

He had to squint to comfortably see the cell phone screen and quickly type out a response before he changed his mind. As soon as it sent, he regretted it. Castiel was probably asleep by now. He probably just woke him up. If Castiel wasn’t already angry with him, he’d definitely be angry now. Who texted at four in the morning? Especially stupid, unimportant texts like ‘Can’t sleep’.

Dean banged his phone against his head in frustration over his recent string of bad decisions, nearly dropping it when it went off in his hand. He glanced over at Sam to make sure he hadn’t been awoken by the phone or the yelp of fear he hadn’t quite managed to squash in time. Sam stirred when Dean unlocked then phone and he quickly covered the screen with his hand to block the light. He waited with bated breath for Sam to start snoring again. Only then did he check the message, pushing down the pang of anxiety that lanced through him at the sight of Castiel’s name.

_Me neither._

Not knowing why, Dean got out of bed, grabbed his keys and crept downstairs. He shoved his feet into his boots, threw a jacket on as an afterthought – they’d been experiencing record low temperatures all week – then slipped outside.

He stood on the front porch for a moment, looking out over the neighborhood. The world was shrouded in an early morning mist and Dean shivered slightly; glad he’d decided to put on a jacket. He stepped off the porch and walked toward the park. What he hoped to accomplish by going there was a complete mystery to him.

The tops of the playground equipment loomed out of the mist and someone was walking towards him. As they drew closer together, the figure resolved itself into the form of Castiel, looking just as disheveled as Dean from lack of sleep.

“I heard about Meg,” he said. “I’d like to make amends for her behavior.”

Dean sighed. “After what you did for Adam – and I suspect for Sam as well – I should be the one making amends.”

At the mention of Adam’s name, Castiel looked away, taking in their view of the playground as he tried to decide what to say next. “You must know,” Castiel started. He looked back at Dean and shook his head, looking wretched. “Surely you must know it was all for you. My feelings for you haven’t changed, but one word from you will silence me forever.” He hesitantly met Dean’s eyes, looking anxious but determined to accept whatever Dean’s answer was.

Dean raked his fingers through his hair and pinched at the bridge of his nose. “Cas,” he sighed. He saw a hurt look flash across Castiel’s face. He’d obviously been expecting a yes or no answer and Dean hadn’t given it. “Look, Meg got under my skin. I shouldn’t’ve let her, but I did and she planted all these doubts in my head,” Dean confessed.

Castiel got that inquisitive look on his face – all frowning and narrowed eyes. “What kind of doubts?”

“She said I didn’t deserve you, and she’s right.”

“Dean–”

“After everything you’ve done for us, after all my shitty behavior…”

“I treated you poorly as well,” Castiel argued. “I repeatedly insulted you while attempting to tell you how deeply I cared for you. I’m willing to put all that aside and start again if you are.”

“Even then,” Dean started. He sighed again. “You gotta let me pay you back.”

Castiel shook his head. “Your family needs that money.”

“I can’t have that hanging over my head, man. I just can’t.”

“And I wanted to spare you and your family from that burden. You were never supposed to know of my involvement.” He studied Dean’s face a moment then nodded quietly more to himself than to Dean. “But if you insist, we can try to work out a way you can pay me back without creating a financial strain on you or your family.”

“And I need to know that I got into Pemberly on my own merit and I won’t get some kind of preferential treatment while I’m there because of your feelings towards me,” Dean said.

“I promise you, you got in all by yourself. I didn’t even know you’d applied until I saw you on campus. And you won’t get any help from me unless you ask for it. Except,” he added with a small grin, “maybe when I know you’re being too proud to ask.”

Dean huffed a laugh and stepped forward, taking Castiel’s hand and brushing his thumb across the back of his knuckles. “To answer your question, my feelings _have_ changed. I’m not sure when they did, but they did and I’m so sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.”

Most people would mistake Castiel’s answering smile as being too small and too shy for someone who found out the person they’ve been in love with for months loves them back, but Dean could see it for what it was – a smile that lit up the whole damned sky.

“I love you.”

Dean smiled back at him, unable to resist saying the next words that come out of his mouth. “I know.”

He wasn’t sure who initiated the kiss, whether it was Castiel pulling him in by their still joined hands or if it was him reaching over and cupping Castiel’s cheek. All he knew was they were kissing with a sweetness that surprised him.

A series of loud bangs made them jump and they glanced up in time to see the next round of firecrackers go off.

Dean chuckled as he checked the time. “Gabriel’s kinda early this year.”

Castiel huffed out a laugh as well, leaning in to kiss the corner of Dean’s mouth. His movements were too cautious for Dean’s liking and he pulled Castiel in close, running a soothing hand along his back and threading his fingers through Castiel’s hair. He felt Castiel smile against his neck as he melted into the embrace and pressed a soft kiss against Castiel’s temple.

“You’re freezing,” Dean muttered softly. He took Castiel’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze before breaking away. “C’mon, I’ll make you some coffee.”

Castiel glanced back towards Netherfield, plainly wanting to ask Dean to go there for coffee instead. Dean couldn’t blame him. He’d had the Moores’ coffee before and it was awesome. They brewed it in a fancy French press and everything, but only because no one had figured out how to work the gleaming new espresso machine yet.

Castiel turned back and smiled, adjusting the way their hands were clasped so their fingers interlaced.

“I’d like that,” he said.

\--

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to: Anna, for giving me the initial idea, letting me bounce ideas off her, doing a drive-by beta job, suggesting the title, and encouraging me every step of the way; Jeanna, for cheering me on and helping me puzzle things out when I got stuck; and Dani, for telling me to stop messing with it and just post it already.


End file.
